


Killer Road Trip

by EmthelRackem



Category: Glee
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad police work, Camping, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kurt x OC is the bad one, M/M, Murder Mystery, My Beta is Grammarly, Police, Post-Prison, Prison, Road Trips, Romance, Service Dogs, Swearing, honestly not that dark, mentioned - Freeform, sorry Mum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmthelRackem/pseuds/EmthelRackem
Summary: Offering people a ride, especially to ‘somewhere far away’, was not the safest thing to do, but Pavarotti was fierce when she wanted to be, and Kurt had no doubt he could hold his own against some out-of-breath, starving, gorgeous stranger named Blaine Anderson. Even if said stranger was straight out of jail and Kurt was slowly falling in love.Too bad it can't last.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 43
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is hopefully the start of a really long fic, as quarantine is presenting me with time to start new things. A lot of Glee characters are mentioned, but Klaine is the biggest focus, along with my love of crime stories. I hope you enjoy, and as usual I own nothing but my ideas.

The blare of the sirens alarmed Blaine. They really shouldn’t have because he was most likely the one to set them off. Usually, alarms would not be cause for concern, unless of course, you were trying to escape prison undetected, which Blaine was currently attempting to do. The concrete fortress was solidly behind him now, only the length of the exercise yard and then the fence. His fellow inmates had agreed to cause a distraction, which meant a few others had also attempted to escape at the same time from a different point. 

He scuttled his way under the fence, swearing all the way. With the onslaught of rain, the muddy ground was higher than he had expected. Sure, parts of his prison uniform got ripped, and probably his skin too, but freedom was long overdue for one Blaine Anderson. Once on the other side of the fence, he ducked through the surrounding woods, having through trees and avoiding any and all lights that came his way, even if it was just moonlight filtering through the trees.

Once Blaine got to a semi-secluded spot, searched thoroughly through online maps, he shoved his body into a tree cavity and looked at the bounty he had carried all the way from prison. Blaine hadn’t really had any prized possessions in his cell, and so had instead stolen some casual clothes on his way out. One casual top, one pair of pants, one jacket and one shoe.

Only one shoe. 

Shit.

Blaine cursed under his breath with growing vehemency but little volume. He searched in his little hidden space, maybe he had just dropped it here. Unfortunately no, he must have left it on his run somewhere. How could he be more suspicious? Clothes dirtied from his run and now only one shoe? At least the rain had flattened his hair into a semi-style. Ish. The curls probably would have been enough to scare any potential helper.

Blaine let out a long sigh, thunking his head against the back of the tree, and just stayed there. He counted his breath, waiting to hear the guards. None came, Blaine hoped it was because they had gotten confused in the pouring rain, and not because they had managed to round up the other criminals. Most of them Blaine hoped got home safe, back to their families, able to reconnect after being stuck there for so long. Some of his closest friends had been put in for stupid petty crimes, nothing more than tax fraud for some. Some of the others though, Blaine hoped were quickly rounded up. There are some crimes so evil Blaine can’t in good conscience wish for them to be free.

After counting to one hundred, he carefully stripped down underneath the tree and changed into his new clothes. He dumped his prison uniform but held onto one shoe. Now, he had two very mismatched boots, and his left one was clearly prison-issued. He looked even more deranged, maybe he should just ditch one shoe? No, the less prison the better. Besides, having mismatched shoes was totally normal now right?

Blaine had not been out for a long, long time.

Once he was sure he was alone in the woods, the guards having run off in the other direction, Blaine stepped out from the tree cavity and ran once again. He knew which way to go, there was a road stop not too far from the prison, far enough to be annoying but Blaine could walk there in a reasonable amount of time. 

Walking through the night was tiring, and Blaine was drenched and cold. Every noise started to sound like people coming to get him, and unexpected light sent Blaine’s heart into a frenzy. Fear and determination kept him going, this plan had to work, he was not going back. He trudged onwards with only that thought in mind. Just as the sun started rising and the rain slowed to a drizzle, the convenience store came into view. It was tiny, a little stop for truckers and people on cross-country trips who needed somewhere to refuel and stock up again. There were two vehicles, a massive truck with the driver somewhere in the store and a Cadillac with the driver still instead. Blane could only see their head and shoulders as they leant their car seat back and presumably slept unaware of what was going on around them. 

Blaine ignored that car completely turning his attention instead to the truck. He walked around it trying to inconspicuously get a look at what might be inside, and how helpful it might be. He was on his third circuit round, his brain barely starting to process what he had seen the first time around when he heard a voice call out to him.

“You good out there?” The asleep (not anymore) driver called, his window rolled down and his head peeking out the window. Blaine jumped a bit and whipped his head around to face what could be a threat, but relaxed upon seeing that the driver was just a normal person, not a cop. Although Blaine was pretty sure he was a guy from some masculine features in his face and the short hair, his voice was very high.

“I’m good,” Blaine tried to reply, but what came out was a garbled, stuttered mess forced out through chattering teeth. The other driver opened his car door, and a little dog jumped out. A black poodle strutted around the car as the driver came towards Blaine and offered him a keep cup. Blaine couldn’t help but notice the matching bright blue accessories on the poodle's collar and the driver’s shirt. He did not look prepared for a long car drive, more like he was readying himself for an important, but fashionable business meeting.

“I haven’t finished my coffee but I’m not sure it’s warm anymore,” he offers, and Blaine takes it, sculling it down in one go, the slight heat at least warming up his internal systems. The driver tilts his head, the dog coming to his side, and then offers his hand.

“I’m Kurt,” he says, and Blaine shakes his hand, attempting to reply with his name, but not able to force the words out of his mouth. Kurt smirks at Blaine’s poor communication, taking back his keep-cup with amusement, “if you want, my car has a heater?”

Blaine thinks about it, on one hand, a car is an enclosed space with a stranger, on the other hand, warmth.

He follows Kurt back to the car, sliding into the passengers' seat to the indignation of the poodle. Blaine just stares as Kurt scoops the dog up and sits in the driver's seat, cranking the heater up to full blast. They sit in companionable silence until Blaine’s body stops imitating a blender and he can feel himself think. At some point Kurt had turned on the radio, a soft melody coming through the speakers and almost lulling Blaine to sleep.

“Better now?” Kurt asks, still stroking the poodle as it curls up in his lap.

“Yes,” Blaine croaks out, and remembering inbuilt manners he offers; “name’s Blaine.”

“Well,” Kurt says, “hello Blaine, this is Pavarotti, and you already know me.” He shakes Pavarotti’s paw like a hand waving and grins as if expecting Blaine to join in the joke. Blaine waves back, still half-delirious from the temperature change. Kurt smiles at him and reaches back into the car, he pulls out a blanket and settles it deftly over Blaine’s shoulders.

“Where are you headed with those shoes?” Kurt asks, and Blaine looks down at his feet and laughs.

“You noticed huh?” Blaine asks, wiggling his toes. He still feels gross and soaked but Kurt’s welcome is helping him feel just a bit better, a bit more human.

“My specialty is clothes,” Kurt shrugs, gesturing vaguely behind him, and Blaine turns to see a mountain of suitcases. 

“A fashionista,” Blaine murmurs, nodding his head in agreement, “I noticed,” he flaps a hand in the vague direction of Kurt’s outfit, and Kurt snorts, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“You haven’t answered my question, anywhere I can drop you off?” Kurt asks again.

“Somewhere far away from here,” Blaine says, each word forced through his body. Kurt nods sagely.

“Aren’t we all?” He asks, before steamrolling over whatever Blaine would say, “I’m gonna get us both a coffee and then we can hit the road, sound good?” Blaine doesn’t get a chance to reply before Kurt is out of the car and walking back into the store. Blaine briefly considers hot-wiring the car and leaving but Pavarotti stares at him as though she can see through his very soul. Blaine is oddly stuck in place, not even realising Kurt is back until a coffee is thrust into his hand and the engine is turned on.

Kurt buckles Pavarotti into the backseat, ignoring her insulted yips, and clips himself in as well. Blaine only gets the hint when both passengers turn to stare at him. With all three safe in the car, Kurt pulls out of the parking lot and manoeuvres them out into the open road. It’s only a matter of time before Blaine manages to fall asleep, head resting on the headrest and blanket curled around his shoulders. Kurt singing softly along to a song on the radio.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, what does Kurt make of all this?

Now, Kurt was not usually in the habit of picking up random strangers from stops along the highway. He would barely stop for hitchhikers, but this guy looked pathetic. Not like trying-too-hard pathetic, but actual pathetic. Drenched in rainwater, shaking from the cold. He looked like he was drunk, but the way he quietly circled the truck, slightly lethargic but not obviously tipsy, made Kurt think he was merely suffering from the rain and cold. The way he inhaled Kurt’s lukewarm coffee made him seem more exhausted than anything else. 

Offering people a ride, especially to ‘somewhere far away’, was not the safest thing to do, but Pavarotti was fierce when she wanted to be, and Kurt had no doubt he could hold his own against some out-of-breath, starving, gorgeous stranger. 

That was the other reason, claiming Blaine was ‘not bad on the eyes’ was an understatement. Under the dirty clothes and mismatched shoes, Blaine was drop-dead gorgeous, and Kurt was single. Very, very single.

Not that he was a creep. He wasn’t going to try anything, but it couldn’t hurt to have his first hitchhiker look like they were sculpted from marble.

Keeping his eyes on the road, and not on his travel companion, Kurt flicked from his CD of broadway classics to the free to air radio. Although he was mostly staying away from the general population it was nice to be kept up to date on road conditions and the like. It was also helpful in navigating his way around densely populated areas.

Kurt would admit, that was his main goal here. Avoiding people. Going cross country would normally take a few days at the most, but Kurt was navigating his way through as many derelict towns as possible. He had even brought his tent along so that he could set that up instead of going into town if he wanted to. He just wanted it to be him, Pavarotti, and now Blaine.

Hopefully, Blaine wouldn’t mind tagging along on Kurt’s ‘find yourself’ operation, a quick break before he had to see his dad again and face the fact that his last few relationships ended terribly, that his job was becoming too stressful, that his life was falling apart and he needed some support. 

So yeah, he could maybe daydream about his hitchhiker being good for him and helping him out, not like it would be exposed anytime soon.

The radio finished its new pop song, and then the news started. Kurt flicked the volume up a bit, listening as they reported on the traffic. It was pretty normal, blocks in the usual roads, a smash in the predicted space, nothing Kurt wasn’t expecting. Next came the news on celebrities, it was nice to hear the Mercedes was still moving up, that Santana and Brittany were still doing well. 

“It’s astounding to hear,” the radio lady continues, “that Vogue’s newest up and coming designer-“ she doesn’t get any further before Kurt is violently turning the volume down and switching back to his CD. He jerks the radio so hard the car jerks before Kurt puts it back on course, and resumes driving.

Pavarotti, the darling she is, presses her nose gently against Kurt’s arm, the cold wet spot bringing Kurt back into the moment. He’s in a car, not back at his apartment, his dog is there, supporting him, and his hitchhiker friend is staring at him. 

Sculpted-marble hitchhiker Blaine was staring at him, half fear, half incredulity. Not the greatest impression, Kurt could admit.

“Don’t like the news, huh?” Blaine asks, eyes flicking to the radio proudly displaying the words ‘CD track 5’ as the semi-soothing tones of Wicked bleed through the speakers.

“Just some things I don’t like hearing anymore,” Kurt admits, thinking of the rage-fear induced cleanse he did of his music collection not even three weeks ago, and the frantic apartment cleanup two weeks before that.

“I’m the same,” Blaine admits, wetting his lips he continues; “I don’t really like listening to the news either, I know it’s probably-“

“Oh no, don’t worry about it,” Kurt cuts in, waving his hand as if he could wave away Blaine’s concerns, “I can totally just-“

“I know it’s a bother, but I-“

“I can use my phone for traffic updates, it’s fine-“

“It can be really upsetting and I don’t really want to hear it-“

“I won’t even turn it on,” Kurt says, cutting off whatever Blaine was going to interject with next. He flashes a quick smile, and Blaine gives him one in return.

“Thanks,” Blaine concedes, settling down in his chair again, slumping and looking ready to slip back into sleep. Kurt watches the sun as it climbs towards its peak and feels bad for forcing this stranger on his mad trek to getaway.

“Do you want to stop for a while, so you can rest?” Kurt asks, “there’s a fairly deserted motel in a few hours, I don’t mind stopping.”

“Deserted?” Blaine cracks his eyes back open, blearily looking at his companion.

“Yeah, I’m uh,” Kurt wonders how to phrase this without sounding like a complete nut job, “don’t really want to see people at the moment.” Wow. Was there a better way to sound like a complete maniac?

“I get it,” Blaine replies, sitting up straighter and stretching as much as he can, “I want to avoid crowds too.” 

“Glad you understand,” Kurt says, “didn’t want you to think I’m some kind of murderer of something.” Kurt huffs a laugh and then replays the words in his head. “I mean- I’m not a murderer, although I might seem suspicious, I’m really not and-“ Kurt clamps his mouth shut, no reason to continue this stream of incoherency when he can focus on the road and ignore the rising blush.

“I could probably take you, even if you were,” Blaine replies, smirking at Kurt’s insulted squawk.

“Just because I look feminine does not mean I’m not strong!” Kurt fires back, turning his head for a second to glare at Blaine, who ducks his head.

“That’s not what I meant! I just feel like I might be at an advantage if we fought.” 

“So you do think I’m weak!” Kurt shoots back teasingly, “how do you know I’m not actually a bodybuilder?”

“Even if you were, I was part of my high school fight club,” Blaine says smugly, puffing himself up as if to prove his point.

“Oh, I’m scared now,” Kurt laughs, he flicks Blaine’s shoulder and Blaine joins in the laughter. “Now settle down Fighter-Boy, I’ll stop at the motel when we get to it.”

Kurt manages to control his laughter, being set off a few more times by Blaine before he can compose himself. He can’t even look over at him for fear of having to pull over to get his joy out, but eventually, he’s calm enough to release his death grip on the steering wheel and scratch behind Pavarotti’s ears. Blaine is back to dozing, so Kurt feels confident enough to open a muesli bar and eat half of it, offering the other half to Pavarotti as she sits in the back seat.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, returning his attention back to the road. She really has been good, keeping quiet when Kurt’s talking and reassuring him when needed. He keeps driving until he sees the motel in front and pulls off the road to park in the empty carpark. 

“Hey,” he says, shaking Blaine’s shoulder, “I’m just going to book us a room okay, I’m going to take Pavarotti with me.”

“Sure,” Blaine replies, eyes alert despite the fact he was asleep mere minutes before. Kurt gets out of the car and opens the passenger side door as well. He clips a leash onto Pavarotti’s collar and leads her out, making his way through the front doors and to the reception desk. Or, what looks like reception in this run down place. 

“Yeah,” the woman at the desk grunts, “you want a room?”

“Yes, please,” Kurt says, “For two and my dog” The woman looks down at Pavarotti sitting quietly on the floor and shakes her head.

“No pets,” she grumbles.

“It’s a service animal,” Kurt says, “surely there’s an exception?” Kurt could pull the ‘don’t you know who I am’ but that would defeat the purpose of being unknown. 

“Most I can do is room 2,” The lady grunts out and Kurt nods, grabbing the key from her and walking back out to the car. He doesn’t want to say he’s relieved when he sees the car is still there, but he can admit that he was still testing out how trustworthy Blaine is.

He raps gently on the glass and watches as Blaine jumps and whips his head around. Kurt waves through the window and motions for Blaine to follow, which he does. Together they walk around to the neatly labelled ‘room 2’ and Kurt manages to force the door open. One would think that a key would help open the door, but it still required a lot of force. Eventually, Kurt and Blaine manage to stumble inside and immediately find out why it was the only one a pet was allowed in.

The room was a mess. The walls were far from what Kurt could only assume used to be cream, and the carpet on the floor was peeling up. There was a couch, and a bathroom (although if the water worked was to be seen) and as Kurt walked into the bedroom it became even more apparent. The cupboard was missing a door, and the bed was barely made. The one bed. 

“I said for two, right?” Kurt asks Pavarotti, whose only response is to inspect the bed. Blaine comes in as well as also halts in the doorway.

“Do they separate?” Blaine asks, already taking the initiative and trying to pull the bed. All he manages to achieve is a loud screeching noise as the bed moves and the reveal of what was under the bed, which is dust. 

“I’ll take the couch,” Kurt offers, although his back twinges at the thought of another night on a hard surface. The car hadn’t been the softest surface and Kurt hadn’t had the excuse Blaine gives him to actually check into a motel.

“I slept the entire way here, you can take the bed, I’ll just use the couch if I get tired again,” Blaine replies, gently pushing Kurt further into the room, “I’m going to test out the hot water.”

“If you’re really okay with it?” Kurt asks, watching Pavarotti jump on the bed and make herself comfortable.

“It’s fine,” Blaine insists, “besides, you’re the one driving.” Kurt scoffs and gently sets himself down on the bed. It feels gross, and Kurt has to spend a minute dashing out to get his bag and putting his own sheets on top of the ones provided. He changes into pyjamas, gets his phone camera out and starts his nighttime routine. He only does half before Pavarotti is there to nudge him into the bed, sensing the bone-deep exhaustion that Kurt had been ignoring. 

Kurt lies down and sleepily clips the car keys to the poodle’s collar, before curling up on the bed and getting lulled to sleep by the sound of the shower in the other room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp, there was only one bed! This is currently on a roll for me, so I decided to post another chapter today. I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is only one bed, but also, only one phone.

Blaine was in heaven. Warm water (well, lukewarm water) heaven. So what if everything rattled a bit too much, and the toilet water seemed to be staring into his soul, Blaine had not had a shower this good in years. He had used the entire soap bar provided and was working through the shampoo and conditioner. He could live in there forever and would have if the water didn’t turn violently cold and force Blaine out. 

Nevertheless, he was in a good mood. A stranger was helping him out, one who would most likely remain oblivious to who Blaine actually was since he agreed to avoid to the news. Kurt also avoided populated areas and seemed to be completely alone with no one contacting him yet. It was almost certainly a perfect match. 

Blaine hummed a bit as he left the bathroom, coming to the ‘living room’ that was apparently named after the mould in the corner. He sat down on the couch and just relaxed. Everything was going great so far, he hadn’t seen any police, his ride had no idea who he was and was also keeping away from others. It was altogether perfect.

Blaine, after a second of relaxing and soaking the feeling of being free, searched under the banged-up TV for a remote. After a few minutes of shuffling around, he managed to find it, and after peaking into the bedroom to confirm that Kurt was asleep, he hesitantly pressed the on button.

And nothing happened. He pressed it again only to have the same result. He shuffled forward and pressed it again, twisted his wrist and pressed it. Nothing worked. He contorted his arm into so many different positions just to get it to light up but nothing happened. Eventually, Blaine dropped the remote and instead walked up to the TV unit itself, looking to the side and mashing the on button. Once again, nothing.

He pushed harder on it, hoping for some kind of action, but nothing. Blaine moved the TV further out, looking for the powerpoint to see if it was switched off, but as Blaine followed the power cord connecting the TV to the wall he found the problem. It was chewed straight through.

Blaine hastily flicked off the powerpoint, worried that someone could get electrocuted, and made a note to alert the front desk. He dropped the remote back where he found it, in the bottom left drawer, and contemplated his next move. 

He wanted to check the news, just to be updated on the situation, but Kurt couldn’t be around to hear. It was now, or when he was driving, but if the news was turned on in the car Kurt could hear it. 

Although that issue was sorted out now because Kurt had said he would check traffic on his phone.

Blaine, having been struck by inspiration, crept his way into the bedroom, making sure to keep his steps light in case anything creaked. In prison he had always had to creep around, afraid to move too fast, too threateningly, scared someone might take exception and come for him. Kurt wasn’t really a threat, but the mindset remained.

Kurt was asleep, curled up in the centre of the bed with his poodle cuddled to his chest. Blaine was amused to see different sheets then the ones on previously, Kurt having obviously been displeased by the state of the place. 

Blaine carefully padded over to Kurt’s back sitting in the corner and gently moved stuff around until he found Kurt’s phone. He pressed the home button, a photo of his dog lighting up the lock screen. Blaine swipes across only to be prompted to press the home button to unlock. He does so, confused at the change in technology, and is promptly presented with a number code. 

Blaine huffs, pressing harder on the home button in thought, which jerks the picture and gives the notice ‘incorrect fingerprint’. Blaine freezes then, the number lock becoming irrelevant as he looks over at Kurt and an idea occurs to him.

Gently, so as not to wake Kurt up, Blaine comes over and picks up Kurt’s finger, coming to a halt as Kurt huffs in sleep, irritated by the sudden intrusion. When Kurt doesn’t pull his finger away, Blaine slowly continues, pressing the finger onto the home button and keeping it there until the phone unlocks and Blaine can retreat back into the living room. 

He then inspects the phone in his hand, navigating his way to the news app. Everything looks different from what he remembers, but he’s not sure if it’s because his memory has faded or if technology has advanced so far. He does manage to avoid making noise though, which is positive. 

The news app loads up and seems to be taken over by celebrities, very little crime on the front page, which is good. Blaine then finds a search bar, and nervously types in his own name.

Immediately a page comes up with a news article about the prison break and Blaine taps on it, eager to learn about his fellow inmates, but also hoping that the police hadn’t caught onto him yet. From what he learns, some of his friends had been taken quickly, some had escaped for a few hours but had been found within a few miles of the prison, and some, like Blaine, were still unaccounted for. His own name was only mentioned twice. Once in the list underneath of the escapees, and one in the middle with reference to his own crimes. It may have helped that one of the serial murderers had escaped and was on the run, so most were focused on him rather than the other, more minor prisoners. 

Blaine taps the back button, hoping to find another article that mentions him, but most don’t mention him specifically by name, only the prison and the number of escapees. Relieved at the anonymity granted to him, Blaine moves on to current news stories, entertaining himself with news about sport and singers. 

He was stunned, however, by an article in the fashion section (don’t blame him, he had to catch up on fashion trends) about a missing vogue superstar. It wasn’t particularly prominent, posted days ago with a few updates, but it was still more interesting than ‘what lace goes well with wool?’.

Blaine taps on it, scrolling through almost mindlessly until he spots the name Kurt Hummel, with an accompanying picture. The Kurt in the photo looked slightly younger than the one in the bed next door, but it was unmistakably the same person. 

According to the article, which Blaine scrolled back to the top to read thoroughly, Kurt was dating some other leading man in the fashion industry, but after some relationship troubles he dropped off the map. Although close friends and family insisted he was fine and were keeping in contact, the paparazzi were not able to find him. Blaine couldn’t connect the dots in his mind, the Kurt next door was a fashionista, Blaine could tell from the many bags in his car, but he wasn’t a leading vogue designer who could do practically anything he wanted and certainly wouldn’t pick up hitchhikers. It made no sense. 

Blaine closed the news app, and locked the phone again, sneaking back into the bedroom and placing the phone back in Kurt’s bag. He just sits there for a second, watching Kurt curled in the bed. 

He doesn’t dare sit on the bed, but perches awkwardly for a minute on the dresser, just pondering over Kurt Hummel, the famous fashion designer turned cross country traveller. He watches the way Kurt twitches in sleep, the sleepy way Pavarotti keeps a paw on him even in sleep. Blaine notices the key on the dog’s collar and feels a soft grin tug at his lips at the cleverness of placing them in a place Blaine could never get to them. He watches the soft rise and fall of Kurt’s chest, and the way the bed almost swallows him up. He just stares and stares, until he feels creepy and returns to the living room. 

The couch is still comfier than a prison bed, and somewhat better than a car seat, so Blaine relaxes, lying his head down and staring at the destroyed walls. After a second he huffs, and turns himself around, nudging his head further up the armrest until he can see through the bedroom door and to where Kurt sleeps on the bed. He knows his neck will be killing him in the morning, but he just can’t stop thinking over what he has learnt about his travelling partner. 

(He’s also scared that Kurt will leave without him, that he’ll wake up in the morning to an empty motel room and he’ll be alone. Not necessarily because he can’t make it on his own, but because the circumstances of their meeting seem so fated. Blaine could have escaped any other night, Kurt could have chosen any other place to stop, but they met each other. 

It sounds like a fairytale, and Blaine wants it to be true so badly he’s willing to stay awake and develop a crick in his neck if it means they can explore together what destiny has given them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, everything picks up a lot faster in the next chapter, because as much as I would love this plot to just be the boys having fun, gotta create tension somehow. As always, nothing belonging to me, and if you see any problems please let me know. My beta is me and I am not the best at it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian kind of hates his fellow cops, Blaine kind of hates the hand-me-down clothes, and Kurt really likes to offer makeovers.

Sebastian was kind of pissed off. The other cops had been annoyed at him for no good reason. So what if he slept around? It shouldn’t affect his job like this. There was a massive prison break and who did they assign to him? Some nobody from Ohio, while Grant three desks down got to track down one of the most well known serial killers of the area. 

Sebastian was one of the best cops in the precinct, regardless of how he may have slept around in an effort to climb the ranks. It didn’t work though, so he’s not sure why it’s being held against him.

Anyway, back to Blaine Anderson, arrested four years ago with an open and shut assault case where he got too drunk in a bar. He wouldn’t have been in jail that long but the government was trying to seem ‘tough’ so they had changed a few laws and Blaine had gone away for a total of ten years. Sebastian flicked through his files, little connection with family, not a lot of friends he contacted from prison, no hidden away properties. Nothing.

Great, hard to track down and of little importance, just the kind of case those assholes would give him. Sebastian angrily brought up the search database on his computer and typed in Blaine’s name, hoping for some more information than his colleagues gave him. It wasn’t very useful, a few minor things like crimes his friends may have committed, but Sebastian wasn’t searching for them, he was searching for Blaine’s whereabouts. There were other things, his family had died a few years back, disappearances in the general area but those kinds of coincidences happened all the time and Sebastian honestly wasn’t looking into those.

Though they were more interesting than Blaine’s stupid case, and Blaine had been interviewed for some of them so what was the harm. 

So, Sebastian fell into a rabbit hole in the files, which then migrated online as he just researched into the Anderson family deaths. The police had ruled it as an accidental death with no suspicion, but they're a bunch of people online speculating wildly about what had happened. Sebastian discounted some on principal, like aliens or monsters, but then someone suggested it was Blaine and something in Sebastian’s mind stuck. He followed this trail as far as it could go, but normal people had no hard evidence, Sebastian had evidence from the ‘crime scene’. Sebastian pulled up the files of the death, gathered the evidence and just sat there mulling everything over. If there was something here, Sebastian could be in charge of a much bigger case than anyone realised. 

—

Blaine woke up to a sizzling sound. He turned his head but quickly regretted it as his neck protested, quite loudly. He could hear the crack of his neck and the subsequent huff of laughter from Kurt in the makeshift kitchen. 

After a second of silent agony, Blaine managed to sit up and turn his head enough to see Kurt making some eggs and setting out dog food for Pavarotti. He waved at Blaine when he saw him sitting up.

“Couch not that nice?” Kurt asks, flipping an egg and setting another down on a plate.

“Better than I’m used to,” Blaine stretches his arms, “give me a second and I’ll be fine.” He uses the couch to crack his back and then carefully stands up. His feet support him, his back aches minimally, and after a second of cracking, his neck settles down. He walks over to Kurt at the stove, noting the two plates of bacon and eggs on the countertop. 

“Did you bring your own plates?” Blaine asks incredulously, as the plates in front of him were a lot cleaner than what would be expected in this motel.

“Well, I was planning on camping a bit,” Kurt defends, “you need cutlery and stuff for that.” He feeds a piece of bacon to Pavarotti as she sits quietly on the floor, almost proudly displaying the keys still attached to her collar. Kurt doesn’t notice his line of sight, putting the final egg on the plate and offering it to Blaine.

“I’ll need to stop at a store for some more food soon,” Kurt says, using the side of his fork to cut his egg, “last bits of egg I had.” He puts the egg in his mouth, and Blaine realises he has been staring at Kurt for too long. He hastily drops his gaze to his own food and spends the rest of the time eating in companionable silence. When everything is done, Kurt grabs both their plates and scrubs them quickly.

He dries them both and picks up his bag from the floor, storing everything away and doing one last sweep of the room. He stops as he seems to notice Blaine and quickly reopens his bag.

“Do you want a change of clothes?” He asks, already shuffling through everything. Blaine looks down at himself and realises he’s been wearing the same thing overnight and should probably change, so he eagerly grabs the clothes Kurt hands out to him. 

He ducks into the bathroom, changing quickly and noticing the outfit he’s been given. It fits oddly, with Kurt having very different dimensions, but the top is soft and the pants are long enough so it’s okay. They’re both faded, well worn but probably not in public from what Blaine has seen of Kurt’s wardrobe. There’s also a hoodie, with some sports team logo on it. 

“I’m going to drop the keys off, wanna come?” Kurt asks, knocking on the door. Blaine grunts an affirmative and comes out, watches as Kurt locks the room and then follows him to the front desk.

“Don’t you need to take your dog for a walk?” Blaine asks along the way.

“I did before breakfast,” Kurt says, “I know how to take care of a dog.” He shoots a smile at Blaine, patting his thigh twice as if to demonstrate his point, Pavarotti trotting over obediently. 

At the front desk, Kurt hands the room key over, and Blaine pulls his borrowed hood over his head, casting his eye around to see if there are any security cameras. There’s one, but it’s got a layer of dust over it so Blaine hopes it won’t have caught him. They leave together, the lady glancing at them and practically shooing them out of her building. Kurt unclips the keys from Pavarotti and hops into the car, Blaine following after him, and together they get back on the road. 

About fifteen minutes into the drive, Kurt taps the steering wheel twice before jumping into a conversation.

“Do you want to get more clothes when I stop off for food?” He asks.

“Where are you stopping?” Blaine asks back, worried about security cameras and security.

“Usually at a little strip mall or something like that. I know they're not well stocked and terrible in the fashion department, but there’s not a lot of people around so…”

“I just need a few things, some tops or something.” Blaine tugs the hoodie self consciously, and Kurt notices.

“If you need help I can pick some things for you?”

“Simple things?”

“Of course!” Kurt laughs, “I know my fashion knowledge isn’t really accepted by everyone.” Blaine is suddenly reminded of the news article, how Kurt is literally a famous fashion designer and finds it hard to believe. 

“I’ll see when we get there,” Blaine settles on, glancing nervously out the window. He might feel awkward letting Kurt picks clothes out for him, but it would be better than being caught on tape. The news may not be paying close attention to him, but the police are still looking for him. Although, he would like to change up his appearance a little bit. Not just to try and shake the cops, but also because his beard was getting scratchy and he really wanted to gel down his hair. 

Also, and he won’t admit this out loud, Kurt always looks perfectly put together, everything in place. Even while he slept, Blaine had noticed that he didn’t seem to get more rumpled than you would expect. Honestly, he kind of wanted to impress him, to show him the Blaine from before, rather than the one that he saw now. He wasn’t sure if it was because he liked him, or if he just wanted Kurt to find a connection in him, but either way, he wanted to impress him. And he would.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited makeover, and the surprise flirting.

They pulled up to the strip mall, more rundown than the usual ones he visited, but Kurt was happy. Although he had pretty much left behind makeovers when he himself left, he was excited to give it another go with someone who had no expectations. 

He looks at the neat little row of shops in front of him, a little supermarket, two clothes stores, a cafe, and a shop full of little knick-knacks and mentally planned the trip.

“Do you want to come in?” He asks Blaine. His friend seems to look intently at the shops in front of them for a second before turning to him. He gently takes his shoulder in hand and squeezes.

“I don’t want sequins,” Blaine says with an exaggerated nod to Kurt’s chest, where a sequinned brooch sits. Kurt huffs, dropping his head and grinning at the dashboard.

“Sure, sure” he mumbles, promptly sweeping out of the car and taking Pavarotti with him. Blaine follows after him, pulling his hood up and catching up quickly. Kurt leads him first into the food area, where Kurt grabs everything he needs and lets Blaine pick up a few things. Blaine uses this opportunity to grab some basic cleaning supplies, a razor and hair gel. He dumps them into the trolley while Kurt looks at the snack options.

“Do you have a preference?” Kurt asks, picking up a packet of vegetable straws. Blaine picks up some Doritos and Twisties, dropping them into the trolley as well. Together they make their way to the till, where Kurt hands over a credit card and pays for everything.

Once everything is packed into bags, Blaine grabs the things he had chosen (minus the snacks)

“Can you start picking out clothes without me?” He asks, “I want to clean up.”

“Yeah sure,” Kurt replies, looking Blaine up and down for a second, “what size are you?”

“Try medium,” Blaine stuffs the supplies into his pockets, “I’ll come back and look over the stuff anyway.”

“Sure,” Kurt says, and with that Blaine leaves. Kurt uses the opportunity to put his bags back into the car, separating everything into the storage he wants it in, before beginning his makeover routine. The two clothes stores are fairly different, one only sells women’s clothes which, while Kurt would be fine having a look around, he doesn’t want to force Blaine into following his style.

He quickly makes his decision, going into the less fashionable (but also most likely less expensive) store. He gravitates towards the men’s area, the first thing he selects are some comfortable but nice looking shoes. He then selects a few jackets, followed by shirts (some with sleeves and some without), and then pants. He wants to select dress style pants but he knows from experience that they sometimes aren’t the most comfortable for long car rides. He grabs some more comfortable pants and gathers everything together into several pre-planned outfits he wants Blaine to try on.

Then, he takes a second to look at the other things that might be interesting and grabs a hat. Although Blaine hadn’t seemed conscious of it, his hair was a bit of a mess. Covering it up wouldn’t be the worst thing. He took the nicest looking hat that wasn’t feminine, and gently set it atop one of his outfit piles. The shop assistant barely even glanced at him.

After a few minutes, in which Pavarotti walked right up to the tiny sunglass section and pretty much forced Kurt to try a few out, Blaine returned.

At first, Kurt was confused. Without a beard and wild hair, Blaine looked different. Really different, and Kurt wasn’t entirely sure this was the same person. However, he was still wearing Kurt’s clothes, and those were things Kurt could spy a mile away.

Kurt ducked his head to hide his blush, (Blaine cleaned up really well) as Blaine made his way over. He looked at the piles of clothes Kurt had assembled, and gently shuffled through them, looking over everything Kurt had picked out.

“These look really good,” Blaine says, picking the hat up and placing it on his now gelled down hair.

“I gave you a few outfits, do you want to try them on?” 

“I trust your judgement,” Blaine says, and then pauses, “but should I?”

“Should you?” Kurt parrots back, scared for a second and then grinning when Blaine smiles at him.

“Do you reckon I could leave here in one of these?” Blaine asks, “not that I don’t love your clothes,”

“I totally understand, I’ll ask if they can scan them and then you can change.” Kurt walks over to the cash register, scanning through all his clothes, and Blaine gently sets a pair of sunglasses on the till as well.

Kurt pays for everything and then asks if Blaine could change into them before leaving.

“Yeah sure,” the worker replies, already bored of the conversation. Kurt finds it odd though, considering they are literally the only customers of the entire strip mall. Blaine grabs a pile at random and retreats to the singular changing room, quickly stripping out of Kurt’s clothes and into the new ones. When he comes out Kurt can’t help but blush.

While not everyone could pull off a white shirt with a sweater, Blaine did perfectly. Everything seemed to just come together, even the hat, which should have been a fashion disaster with that outfit. Blaine looks like the embodiment of fashionable English teacher, which is really something Kurt did not think was possible.

“Not good?” Blaine asks, completely misinterpreting Kurt’s stunned silence. 

“No,” Kurt’s voice is too high, he clears his throat and tries again, “No, it’s good.”

“Good,” Blaine huffs a laugh, “I was worried you dressed me bad on purpose.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible.” The words are out before Kurt can process them and he feels mortified as he hears them.

“Why? Am I just that fashionable?” Blaine strikes a pose, “I can see that.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at dressing people,” Kurt replies, desperately trying to recover this conversation.

“Maybe you are,” Blaine looks him up and down for a second and Kurt almost feels his soul leave his body. Is he being flirted with, is this flirting? It feels like ages since somebody flirted with him properly. He was a little overwhelmed.

“Time to go!” Kurt cries after a prolonged second of thought, turning quickly and speed-walking out of the shop and into the car. Blaine follows after him, quickly catching up and overtaking so they both enter the car at the same time. Kurt lifts Pavarotti from the front seat and clips her in the back, straightening up and taking a second to get himself under control. He didn’t even know if Blaine liked guys, so he can stop getting ahead of himself and think about flirting. 

Once in the car, Kurt got to see Blaine fully relax, no longer slightly stiff from the clothes that didn’t dry right or weren’t actually his, but instead, Blaine looked more comfortable, more like what you would expect a person to look like on a slightly exciting cross country drive.

“Do you need to get anything else?” Kurt asked, “I might need to stop at a petrol station soon, but otherwise I’m hoping to keep powering through for a while.” 

“Where are we going,” Blaine asks after a second of hesitation, he does want to get far away but having a destination would be incredibly helpful I navigating future movements.

“I’m heading to Lima, in Ohio,” Kurt replies, “got family there I wanted to see again.” He quickly starts the car, pulling away from the deserted car park and back onto the roads.

“Oh,” Blaine startles at the semi-familiar location, “I grew up in Ohio.”

“I did too. I went to McKinley High,” Kurt casts a quick eye at Blaine, “did you?”

“I’ve heard of you guys, but no, I went to Dalton.”

“The private school, with the glee club named after…sparrows?”

“No!” Blaine puts a hand to his chest in fake offence, “the Warblers!”

“Yes, yes, not birdlike at all.”

“What was your glee club called then?” Blaine shoots back, “wasn’t it copying a band or something?”

“Yes, we were the New Directions,” Kurt huffs a snort, “and yes, I’m pretty sure our coordinator was trying to gain popularity by naming us that.”

“You were in the glee club?” Blaine asks, cocking his head slightly.

“Yes, and cheerleading and football for while,” Kurt smirks, “told you I shouldn’t be underestimated.”

“Sure, sure, I already told you I was part of the Dalton fight club.”

“You know,” Kurt scrunches his nose up slightly in thought, “now that I know it was a Dalton fight club, I’m sort of wondering how tough it actually was.” Blaine gasps loudly and theatrically before they both burst into laughter together.

Through his stuttered laughter Blaine manages to get out; “but look at my guns!” And striking an exaggerated pose. Once they calm down together, avoiding setting each other off, Kurt continued to drive on, letting the conversation die down into a nice, comfortable silence. Kurt looks up the maps and plans their next few stops, planning to drive for the rest of the day. Pavarotti continues her plans of glaring at Blaine until he caves and reaches around to pat her. 

While Blaine isn't looking, putting his full attention into the poodle, Kurt takes his eyes off the road to watch him and just imagine. He knows its a long shot, thinking of them together, but for the first time in a while, Kurt wants it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer to get out, school started back up again and decided to slam dunk me with work. As always, I hope you enjoyed, feel free to comment and kudos if you wish. Have a fun quarantine!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truths are uncovered and freely given, and Kurt and Blaine banter about fashion.

The filing system was not the best. Boxes were hard to find, evidence was sometimes not packaged as it should be. Sometimes, evidence could even be thrown out, making Sebastian’s life a lot harder.

Wait, no, there it was. Come to think of it, the mess was also most likely Sebastian’s fault too. No one said that solving a solved murder would be clean.

Sebastian had been going through files for hours, just continually looking over clues, re-looking over clues, walking around, looking over clues again. If Blaine really did kill his parents, he covered his tracks really well. The only living relative left was a semi-successful actor named Cooper, who hadn’t really had contact with Blaine. 

The only thing Sebastian could connect to Blaine was the fact that he had two hours of undocumented time, but just out of the estimated time of death. While Blaine had left his apartment at 6 pm, documented by a security camera, and been seen at a store at 8 pm, the murder occurred around 9. That was the earliest the medical examiner was willing to estimate, after a lot of hounding by the police to get an earlier time so they could arrest Blaine. Furthermore, the death wasn’t a quick one. No stabbing, gunshots, just a gas leak that eventually deprived the couple of oxygen. It was weird that the couple did not try to leave their apartment, but then again, their apartment was fairly sealed up.

Sebastian looked over the facts again. The couple died at 9 pm, but Blaine was in a store at 8 pm, and remained there until 9 pm. Although, he had to go home, and while it took 2 hours to get to the store, Blaine took another 2 hours to get home. Traffic was light, it should have taken 15mins at most. 

What the hell was he doing? Was he just driving around like a lunatic? Was he doing the same thing he did on the way there? 

None of the files had any kind of statement from Blaine between 9 pm and 11 pm, but instead, Blaine had detailed and re-detailed his trip to the store, likely because the police had interviewed him multiple times. That two-hour gap was mostly unaccounted, with neither Blaine nor the police touching on it in detail. Could he have…?

Sebastian lined up the facts again. Blaine was unaccounted for between 9 and 11, time of death could be as early as 9, but the medical examiners had suggested it was actually midnight or early morning, which lines up perfectly. 

How did everyone overlook this? Sure Blaine takes a call at 10 pm which the police took as an alibi, but who was it too? Where did Blaine make the call? 

Sebastian hastily packed everything away, grabbing the few key pieces he had found and made his way back to his desk. He laid everything out again, grabbing a few other things that might be considered evidence, like Blaine’s ability to knock people out efficiently and able to leave little evidence of blunt force trauma, the gas leak being at a place the pipe would not likely have burst at, little things that were overlooked as the police hounded the 6 to 8 gap, rather than the 9 to 11 gap. 

It looked like Blaine was guilty, like Blaine was really, really guilty. He had to take this to someone, one of the others cops. Maybe look into some of the disappearances, figure out how dangerous Blaine actually was, and if they needed to ramp up the search for him.

Before that though, he needed to stop by the marketing department.

“Can you guys send out an information request regarding Blaine Anderson? From the prison escape,” Sebastian requested. The lady manning the front desk nodded, already looking him up.

“Sure, same areas Grant requested?” Sebastian grits his teeth and nodded. Sure, Grant was living it up with the special case now, but soon? Soon Sebastian would have the better case and Grant would have to suck it.

Although, first things first, Blaine was dangerous, and he needed to find him. Fast. Before something went horribly wrong.

—-

“So,” Kurt says, grin overtaking his face, “you, with the terrible taste in fashion that you have, think that my hippopotamus broach is, and I quote, ‘too much’?” 

“Now, I meant no offence,” Blaine starts, barely holding back his laugh.

“Oh I’m pretty sure you did,” Kurt shoots back, “I don’t really know how; ‘you call yourself a fashionista but that brooch is too much,’ could be considered anything but offensive.”

“I don’t know much about fashion-”

“Damn right.”

“but,” Blaine continued, “you have to agree that a hippopotamus broach, with a zebra-patterned shirt and matching grey necktie, it’s a little much.”

“It’s called colour matching!” Kurt shrieks, hand to his heart in mock horror. If they had been driving, Kurt would likely have already crashed, or at least a near miss, but the two had ordered drive-thru and then sat in the carpark to eat their McDonalds. Blaine had ordered a massive burger with bacon, extra cheese, but no pickles, large chips and a large drink. Kurt had ordered a small cheeseburger with salad and a coffee, although he was snagging some of Blaine’s chips.

“What colour are you matching exactly?” Blaine asks, smiling in amusement.

“Grey,” Kurt replies incredulously, gesturing to the matches like an unspoken ‘obviously’, “besides, let's go back to that whole, not knowing a lot about fashion statement you made earlier. Seems quite telling.”

“I’ve been away for a while okay, still have eyes though,” Blaine retorts, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, sure,” Kurt takes a pause, settling down into a more serious tone. “Where have you been?”

“Well,” Blaine doesn’t look too sure, mulling his thoughts over. He could be honest, but that could destroy this whole easy thing he had going with Kurt. He could lie, or just not say anything, but from travelling with Kurt, he knows he’s going to be hounded. 

“I’m not going to judge you!” Kurt assures, “I’ve got friends who had teenage pregnancies, one was homeless. I mean a friend of mine went to Juvie all the time, and then my best friend smashed my window screen once, I’m not going to judge whatever you’ve got going on.”

“I don’t want you to think less of me, it was a dumb mistake,” Blaine murmurs, the chip in his mouth suddenly turning to ash.

“I’m fine with you making dumb mistakes, I’m not going to ditch you on the side of the road.” Kurt reaches over to place a hand on Blaine’s own, and their eyes lock for a second.

“I got out of jail,” Blaine admits, “I got drunk and punched a guy too hard, cops closed down on me real fast,” Kurt rubs his thumb across Blaine’s knuckles, a silent reassurance, “just wanted to get away after all that.” Blaine hangs his head, pulling his hand away. Kurt sits there for a second, thinking over his next words.

“My friend,” he starts, “the one who went to Juvie, he never really did anything wrong.” He takes a shuddering breath, “I mean, he did break the law sometimes, but the police, they just had a vendetta against him. They kept pulling him up for things no one would be pulled up on, and I know it was because he wasn’t white. They kept building, and yeah he did dumb things that were illegal but he shouldn’t have gone away for it, so I kind of understand.”

Blaine takes a second, before nodding slightly. Kurt sits back in his own chair, staring out the front window. 

“I was also arrested once,” he admits, “had my first boyfriend, got too excited in a parking lot, cops called us up for indecent activities.”

“No!” Blaine whispers scandalised, scared to break the intimate quiet, “you, indecent?”

“Yeah, apparently two guys kissing is enough for an arrest in Lima,” Kurt smiles sadly, rolling his head so he’s looking at Blaine, “so, I get it.”

“Yeah,” Blaine grins back, both just looking at each other and breathing, sitting in their memories. Kurt, for a second, thinks about how perfect they are for each other, how easy it would be to lean forward and kiss him. Just two broken people finding each other, it sounds nice. It sounds romantic.

Kurt is stopped from doing anything drastic when Pavarotti presses her nose into Kurt’s arm, distracting him and breaking the tension. Kurt swipes across his eyes and then goes to scratch Pavarotti behind the ears. Blaine follows his gaze and reaches over to. Everything feels so nice, and Kurt eventually manages to pull himself out of the moment long enough to gather up their leftovers and gift them to Pavarotti, then to start the car.

“I was hoping to stop at this campsite up ahead,” Kurt begins, “unless you want another night in a motel?”

“Camping sounds great, actually,” Blaine replies, gently reaching out and patting Kurt’s thigh twice, before retreating back into his side of the car. Kurt programs it into his map and begins to drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I'm glad that this part is written out now! If you find any mistakes, please let me know, and don't forget to kudos and comment if you want to. Have a great day!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The campsite is lovely, and maybe a great place for a kiss.

They pull into the campsite a few hours before the sun will set. It’s secluded, you can’t see it from the road, but it’s also deserted. Although, Kurt is unsure why as the campsite is beautiful. A lake cuts through the scenery, bracketed on either side by trees that tower above them. Light filters through the branches, but there’s enough to still keep the clearing bright. The ground is covered in soft grass, and while there is a dirt patch it’s obviously from around a campfire.

The only marker of it being a campsite is a rotten wooden stump, with a plaque proudly declaring ‘campsite 1’. It’s silly because this campsite is the only one under this company name, so there is only one campsite in the area. It was one of the reasons Kurt picked this place, the secludedness of it. 

In fact, if Kurt was being completely honest with himself, it’s a little romantic. The idea of being with his boyfriend in a nice little campsite, away from the rest of the world. Almost fairytale-esque. Something his younger self would fawn over, if he could ignore the fact it was camping outside, with bugs, and the potential to ruin his outfit.

Kurt wouldn’t say he had entirely grown out of his fear of campsites, but his dad had taken him once with Finn and Carole, and it was okay then. It would be even better now because Kurt could use all available to him and lean towards glamping, rather than the more natural camping his dad had insisted on. 

Kurt took a second to just watch the landscape, noticing a flash of brown as a bird flitted around the trees. It was nice to be somewhere more natural, after spending nights in parking lots or in motels too similar to the one he had been to with Blaine. Although, he was glad he had brought top of the line equipment after staying at said motels, which were not great.

Kurt used his time efficiently, laying his tent down on the ground and then putting his full focus into the instructions. Pavarotti was inspecting the campsite, using her time out of the car to run around and chase butterflies. 

Blaine comes over to where Kurt had laid down the tent, picking up the pegs and lining them up.

“Are you happy with the tent here?” He asks, nodding to where it’s laid out.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out how the poles work,” Kurt mutters, holding two ends together and attempting to screw them in.

“You need to do the pegs first,” Blaine says, already hammering them in. 

“Oh,” Kurt mutters, looking over the instructions. Blaine takes the poles gently from his hands.

“The poles go like this,” Blaine pops them together easily, building the tent supports easily.

Kurt gets up and brushes off his knees. “You’re pretty good at this,” he says, grabbing one end of the pole as Blaine feeds it through the tent. “My dad took me camping once with my brother, but I didn’t get super into it.”

“My dad took me out camping too,” Blaine says, “he hated it but he wanted me to be more manly so he just kept doing it.” Kurt and Blaine fit the pole into its place and start the second one.

“That sucks,” Kurt grabs the extra pole, and puts in into place, creating a little porch area, “if you don’t mind me asking, why did your dad want you to be more manly?”

“I came out when I was 12, maybe?” Blaine replies, “I actually got into boxing and stuff because I had bullies who hated me and I had to leave my old school.”

“I thought Dalton had a zero-tolerance policy?”

“No, I mean,” Blaine breathes a sigh, “yes, Dalton has a no-bullying policy, I moved there from my old school. Dear old dad kind of had to let me move after I got beat up.”

“I’m sure you can tell I’m gay too,” Kurt starts, being cut off by Blaine’s fake-surprised gasp, “shut up, my dad and I were massive targets because of it. My step-brother actually bullied me a lot before our parents got married.” Kurt steps back to admire his tent and then turns to Blaine, “did you know I was voted Prom Queen?”

“Seriously?” Blaine asks, incredulous.

“Yep,” Kurt snorts, “and Prom King was a guy who threatened to kill me.”

“And you didn’t move schools?”

“I was gonna move after that but my Glee club and my dad got him expelled so I didn’t.” Kurt scuffs his shoe gently on the ground, “probably would have moved to Dalton, we could’ve met then.”

“Not that I’m not happy you got that asshole kicked out, but I would’ve liked to have met you then.” Blaine grins a little, and Kurt returns the smile.

“I would have liked to have met you too,” Kurt murmurs back. Blaine’s grin gets cheekier.

“You could have been backup in the Warblers.”

Kurt whacks him hard in the shoulder, chasing Blaine as he laughs and starts prancing around the lake. Pavarotti takes notice, yipping and chasing them both until everyone collapses on the ground in a heap, alternatively curling up in laughter and smothering Pavarotti with love. When Kurt and Blaine both take a breath, the laughter dies down. Pavarotti gives Kurt’s cheek a lick before running off to inspect the tent.

Kurt manages to roll himself to his feet, reaching his hand out to help Blaine up as well. They trudge back to the tent together, looking over their handiwork. Although there is only one tent there’s a wall controlled by a zipper, so Kurt and Blaine could sleep in separate areas. Kurt also brought two sleeping bags, overpacking in case something went wrong.

Kurt and Blaine also quickly set up a small setting area, mostly by dragging some of the materials from a nearby shed. Everything was completely run down, but Kurt throws some outdoor cushions on everything and pretends it's fine.

The sun hasn’t completely set yet, so Kurt zips himself off in the tent and gets changed into a pair of shorts. So what if they were a little on the tight side? Blaine might appreciate the show. After psyching himself up quietly in the corner, Kurt emerges.

“Want to sit with me?” He offers, trotting down to the lake and taking a seat at the edge of the very short pier.

“Uh, yeah sure,” Blaine says, after trying to sneak a look at Kurt’s shorts. They sit together, feet dangling off the edge of the pier into the lake below. The water is surprisingly clear, a few goldfish darting away as people invade their home. Plants grow on the banks, submerging themselves with large leaves to catch all available light. 

Kurt swishes his feet in the water, rocking gently side to side. Blaine follows suit after a few seconds, both moving slowly together, knocking shoulders every now and again.

By the third time they knock shoulders, Blaine is smiling, glancing at Kurt every now and again to watch his smiling face too. Kurt’s eyes flick up as well, and the two pairs lock onto each other. Their faces are so close they’re almost sharing breath now. With the sky lighting up in pinks and oranges, their mouths come together in a soft kiss. 

It’s not a harsh frantic kiss, both of them tentative and scared, but they’re both together, and it’s kind of perfect. 

They pull back together, grinning at each other. Kurt’s hand has migrated to Blaine’s upper arm and Blaine’s hand is gripping the back of Kurt’s neck. They both surge forward again for a more passionate kiss, falling into easy motion.

In fact, in the heat of the moment, Blaine tips them both a little too far, Kurt following his lead and them both falling into the lake. They surface, sputtering and coughing, Kurt making it to the pier first and lifting himself up onto it.

“Sorry,” Blaine says sheepishly, treading water in the lake and grinning like a fool. Kurt looks down at him and ruffles his own hair.

“Sure, sure,” he mumbles, returning the grin. His gaze becomes soft as he watches this ridiculous boy, paddling around and not even attempting to get out. He grins as Blaine swims forward, he grins as Blaine grabs his ankle and his grin becomes even softer as Blaine lifts himself out of the water enough to kiss Kurt again.

They separate once more, Blaine pulling himself up fully and seating himself back against Kurt. Kurt doesn’t let him lean in again for anything kiss, just rolls up and away. Blaine pushes himself up as well, and they walk back together to the tent, holding hands and smiling.

Kurt gets changed first, into pyjamas, and then lets Blaine go as well. When they’re both in new clothes, they fall into bed. Kurt grabs the zipper as if to close it but Blaine gently places his hand over Kurt’s, stopping him.

“What if we just look at each other?” Blaine asks, and Kurt nods, settling down in his sleeping bag. They look at one another and just smile. 

They’ve found something here, and neither of them are ready to let it go. Not even for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to the kiss! This was what started this whole thing, so I hope the buildup was good. As always, let me know of any problems or if you enjoyed. I hope you have a nice day!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more bad police work, and some more lighthearted discussion.

“Found some security footage for you,” the desk lady says when Sebastian comes to work in the morning, “apparently your case stopped off at a strip mall.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian replies, already past her and sitting down at his desk. He opens his network and sees the notification. He’s expecting two or three seconds of footage, a direction that he went through. 

He is not expecting to see superstar Kurt Hummel and murder suspect Blaine Anderson casually shopping for food. He watches as Blaine puts his own things in the cart, as Kurt hands over the credit card, as Blaine tugs his hood over his face. It’s so obviously suspicious that Sebastian wonders why the store attendant hadn’t called them as soon as the two left. 

Sebastian watches the clip twice, seeing the subtle way Kurt lets Blaine do as he wants in the shop and the way Blaine knows this.

He opens the other file given to him, this one in the middle of a clothes store. Blaine looks different, obviously having cleaned up, and Kurt looks scared. He’s ducking his head, looking away, and Blaine is using this. They’re laughing, but Sebastian is sure it’s a ruse to get rid of suspicion. 

He calls a meeting, he sends emails to his superiors, he does everything he can to get this to top priority. Or at least close to. And it pays off, within a few hours he has more resources, and only a few hours after that links to Blaine Anderson and previous cold cases come to light. Not enough for a guaranteed conviction, but enough for an arrest.

What made the situation even more delicate was the fact that Blaine had a hostage. Although Kurt didn’t seem to be completely aware of how dangerous Blaine was, he was still in a dangerous situation. If the police approached this from the wrong direction, Kurt was dead, and that was the last thing they needed.

Sebastian can’t even imagine it, this fashion superstar is found with a prison escapee, the police handle it the wrong way and suddenly one of America’s favourite men is killed. The backlash alone would be enough to fire everyone involved.

They couldn’t fuck this up. Sebastian couldn’t fuck this up. 

He followed Blaine’s movements, putting out a request for any and all evidence anyone could scrounge up from old cases or the new ones, including footage or suspected footage of where Blaine and Kurt where. 

Only a few hours later they received footage from a petrol station, where it appears Kurt had invited Blaine into his car. Sometime after that a motel clerk phones in and says that she saw both of them in her motel, paying for a room. Sebastian uses these bits and pieces to track them, plotting pins on his board until he can get an idea of where they’re going. 

There are a few sightings too far away, outliers that Sebastian lets his string bypass, and in the end, he can predict their next motel stop. But, they’re not there. He calls up the surrounding motels and receives nothing. They haven’t stopped in, they aren’t in the rooms there, and yes they’ll call back if they see something.

Sebastian thanks them all in clipped tones, aggravated and returning to his board. 

“Hey,” Grant greets, coming over for the express purpose of annoying Sebastian apparently, “heard your guy got bumped up in priority level?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian grits out. Grant pauses for a second as if waiting for Sebastian to continue but that is not going to happen.

“Just wanted to let you know that a couple of inmates said they were friends in prison,” Grants says, “my guy and your guy.” Sebastian glances at him, cocking his head in thought.

“Well, serial killers would find something to talk about with each other.”

“Dude!” Grant yells, “yours is a serial killer too?”

“With a hostage,” Sebastian nods at the photo of Blaine and Kurt in the clothes store, Kurt’s head dipped down in fear.

“Or a boyfriend,” Grant taps the photograph, “that looks like a blush.” Before Sebastian can lecture him on the inherent homophobic nature of seeing two guys together and assuming they were boyfriends, Grant squints at the picture and starts tapping it more rapidly.

“What?” Sebastian snaps, already sick of this conversation and wanting Grant to just go away.

“That’s that famous guy,” Grant snaps his finger, looking to the roof, “Kurt Hummel! My girlfriend loves his clothes. Friends with a bunch of big names right?”

“Yes.” 

Grant whistles low. “I would hate to be you right now,” he says, straightening up.

“Why is that?”

“High profile case like this, if you make any sort of mistake you could get fired,” Grant flashes him a wry grin, “I’m lucky I got my guy and not yours.”

“Wouldn’t want me to get fired, now would you?” Sebastian says, schooling his face.

“If you need any resources just let me know,” Grant pats Sebastian’s shoulder, “I know you think we’re all out to get you or something, but we just want to solve crimes and bring justice.”

“Sure,” Sebastian brushes Grant off, not feeling the slightest bit of guilt as Grant frowns and walks off. He knows the other guys have a vendetta against him, he’s seen the proof. They give him pathetic cases, they keep looking over his shoulder. It’s infuriating! And just when he thinks he can hold this case over them, Grant comes over trying to rip it from him. Well, that’s not going to happen.

Sebastian goes back to his notes, slamming pins into the board harder than he should have, just letting the rage flow through him and into his project. Although maybe Grant had a point about Blaine having friends from prison, maybe he should check up on that.

Mind made up to avoid the other officers at all costs, Sebastian once again heads down to the evidence room.

—-

Packing up the camping site is harder than Kurt expected, especially because people keep getting underfoot. Blaine tries to kiss him, resulting in Pavarotti coming over and pushing Blaine away. Kurt then has to soothe them both before he can go back to packing up, and then the cycle continues. 

It’s not that he’s mad that Blaine is being affectionate, but it feels weird. He’s not used to having someone who actually loves him, and it’s hard for him to think about a relationship with someone and think that he deserves love as part of that.

Once he manages to get everything back into the packs he unpacked it from, Blaine helps by hauling it into the car.

(And isn’t that kind of hot? Kurt’s always been into muscles and jocks, now this wonderful man can lift bags for Kurt and help him. He can’t help but imagine if Blaine could lift him. It sounds wonderful.)

(And isn’t that kind of scary? Blaine could easily overpower him, do whatever he wants and Kurt couldn’t fight back. He can’t help but imagine if Blaine got violent. It sounds terrifying.)

Once everyone is settled down in the car Kurt unlocks his phone and opens the maps setting. If he’s thinking of letting Blaine date him, may as well let him to some decision making.

“I think, if we go through this town we could stay at the motel there and it’s faster,” Kurt points out the road on the map, “but this town is less crowded, even though it’ll add a few more hours onto our drive.” Blaine studies the map but doesn’t take the phone out of Kurt’s hand.

“I don’t have a schedule,” Blaine offers, “but the motels in that town the motels might not be great.”

“I don’t really care about that,” Kurt smiles a bit, “I’ve been trying to avoid the high-class ones.”

Blaine laughs at that, “they can get on your nerves, but they usually have free stuff.”

“That is very true,” Kurt concedes, “I can imagine you stealing all the hotel shampoo you can get.”

“That was in the past,” Blaine defends, “besides, now I have store-bought shampoo.” Kurt chuckles a little. 

“That’s not proper shampoo,” he says, and Blaine furrows his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean?” Kurt looks at him for a second before bursting out into laughter, and Blaine just gets more confused, asking again.

“Nothing, nothing,” Kurt laughs, “just- you really think that store shampoo is as good as specialty shampoo?”

“It does the job!” Blaine defends, “and specialty is expensive.”

“That’s fair. You put so much gel in your hair, I’m sure you use a whole bottle every time you wash it.” Blaine turns to him, offended, and Kurt just laughs harder. Blaine grins at him. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh away,” he says, letting Kurt do just that. Once Kurt settles down, having made a few more under his breath comments about Blaine’s hair, he re-unlocks his phone.

“So do you have a preference for which town?” He asks, still breathless. 

“You can pick the one with the specialty shampoo shop,” Blaine shoots back and Kurt grins at him, programming the one with fewer people. 

“I’ll buy you some,” he says as he starts the car. He drives off, leaving Blaine grumbling in the front passenger seat. He thinks, privately, that maybe this time will be better. Maybe this time he can actually fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this feels like filler, but! There is a purpose. There is a method to my rambling madness. I pre-write, so I can say all of the first arc is written, and I'm really excited to post it all. However, there are still a few things that need to be tied up in the next two chapters, so stay tuned! As always, have a nice day, and I own very little.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When starting a relationship, one must first divulge all their life secrets. Oh, you don't have to? Well, Kurt does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of domestic abuse, starting at Kurt's "since you've been so honest with me" and finishing with Blaine's "then you met me." There's a TL:DR at in the endnotes if needed.

Getting to the next motel is easy. They pull up to the town as the sun sets, no one is walking around, and Kurt can book a room without anyone but the man at the desk knowing he was there. 

He and Blaine got into their room easily, with two beds this time. They took a look at the twin beds in the bedroom and seemed to both be struck with a thought at the same time. 

“Do you mind if we push them together?” Blaine asks, and Kurt nods. They move the beds so they have a double rather than two singles, although each still has its own set of sheets. Kurt feels like it’s the more comfortable option, being with Blaine, but still separated enough there are no expectations for anything more. 

Kurt grabs one of the grocery bags from the car, already packed with supplies for one dinner and one breakfast. Kurt had sorted out all of his groceries in this way to make sure that preparing food is easy. There’s also a bag in the car with just snacks so they are easily accessible and either of them could eat whenever they wanted. 

Kurt starts dinner, Blaine coming up and offering to help.

“Did you do a lot of cooking?” Kurt asks, chopping the carrots quickly.

“I used to, I found it fun,” Blaine looks over Kurt’s ingredients, “are you making a roast? I made those for my roommates at Dalton sometimes.”

“Were you in the cooking classes there or something?” Kurt slides a cutting board over to Blaine with both a knife and a collection of potatoes on it.

“No,” Blaine replies, cutting up what was offered to him, “my dad wouldn’t have allowed it. I learnt on my own,” a potato takes a bit more force than necessary to cut through, Blaine lets the chop break the conversation off before starting it again. “Did you take cooking classes?”

“After my mum died, my dad kind of fell apart. I took care of the house for a while,” Kurt shoots a wry smile at Blaine, who gently knocks his shoulder with his own.

“I’m sorry about that,” Blaine murmurs.

“It’s fine,” Kurt pulls the potatoes and carrots together and drops them into the oven, “my dad was so supportive of me in every aspect of my life, I’m fine supporting him when he needed it.”

“But how were you being supported?” Blaine watches as Kurt gently stabs the meat with a fork, shaking his head and closing the oven door.

“I had people around me,” Kurt dismisses, opening the cupboards and taking out plates and cups. He pauses and looks at them, and then puts them all in the sink to wash. Blaine, at a loss for what to do, looks around for placemats. He can’t find any but assumes that they won’t really need them. 

Once dinner is ready Kurt hands the cutlery and plates over to Blaine and instructs him to set the table. Blaine does so, and when he turns around to help in the kitchen again Kurt has already prepared everything onto fancy trays.

He smiles sheepishly as puts the trays on the table. 

“I haven’t been able to present for a while,” Kurt says by way of explanation, “kind of happy I get to show off my skills.”

“And what skills they are!” Blaine praises, sitting down and piling his plate with food. He pauses and glances up at Kurt, “do you say grace?” He asks and Kurt laughs.

“No, no, eat! Enjoy!” Kurt grabs some food for himself as if to prove a point, “my family doesn’t believe in that stuff.” Blaine nods and then continues eating. 

They don’t really talk during the meal, except for when Blaine attempts to feed Pavarotti under the table and Kurt has to tell him off. Kurt attempts to wash everything himself but Blaine almost picks him up and moves him out of the way so he can do it, insisting the whole time that Kurt had cooked so he can clean.

Once that is done, Kurt retreats to the bathroom to shower and moisturise, coming out in soft pyjamas that cover up everything. He then goes into the bedroom, choosing his side of the bed and spending a solid two minutes just trying to untuck the bed enough to get under the blankets.

He then has to get back out and grab the dog bed out for Pavarotti before returning back to bed. Just as he lays down comfortably Blaine comes back in with wet hair and the softest clothes Kurt had picked out for him. He’s still a little damp from the shower, but he slides into bed. 

He promptly struggles to turn and face Kurt, the covers blocking him in. By the time he makes it around Kurt is grinning like a fool.

“You okay there?” Kurt asks as Blaine tugs on the blankets.

“Don’t know why yours is so much looser,” Blaine grumbles, still tugging as he attempts to loosen them.

“I untucked them before I got in,” Kurt explains, still smiling as Blaine finally manages to get some room to breathe.

“That’s smart,” Blaine turns to him, “you’re smart.”

“Sure,” Kurt says disbelievingly. 

“You are!” Blaine shuffles a little closer, “you are smart and handsome, and cute.”

“I’m not,” Kurt insists, cheeks flushed pink.

“You are!” Blaine scoots forward enough that he can kiss Kurt for a second, “it’s why I like you so much.”

Kurt looks away, fingers playing with the blankets. Blaine gently smooths his hand over Kurt’s, holding it.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, tempted to soothe things with a kiss but deciding this conversation was probably more important. 

“Since you’ve been so honest with me,” Kurt starts, and Blaine feels a little guilty, “I guess I should tell you why I’ve been on the run.” He stops and looks at Blaine, taking a breath to steady himself.

“I have depression and anxiety, that’s why I’ve got Pavarotti. That’s really a footnote in everything else but I thought you should know.” Kurt takes a breath and pats the bed twice. Pavarotti rushes over, snuggling up to Kurt’s side and placing her paws over Kurt’s hands. Kurt smiles at her, avoiding Blaine’s eyes, and keeps going. 

“Last year I met a guy, we got along really well. We started dating and I loved him. He and I worked in the fashion industry together, at Vogue, and we just clicked. He met my parents, we shared everything with each other, I started to feel better, I was still going to my therapist, but I was happy more and less stressed, he just took care of me. 

“Then he started getting angry. At first, it was fine, we argued a bit but he still loved me and we always made up. Then he would make decisions for me about stuff, especially work things and I did not like it. He started blaming me for things and telling me I had done stuff that I had never done! He went through all my texts and calls, sometimes replying when I didn’t want him to. He took over my life.” Kurt’s crying and shaking now, and Blaine sits up. He holds his hands out in silent offering and Kurt scoots over into them, so Blaine could hug him gently. He makes sure to put any pressure on him, letting him know he can get out anytime he wants. 

Kurt takes another second to breathe before continuing: “Then, he hit me. Not a lot, not all the time. It was once or twice but I didn’t know what to do. I knew it was wrong, but he apologised and I couldn’t really turn to anyone. He overrode me at work, taking over my projects, trying to get more fame. That’s not even the worst part! 

“When I broke up with him, and I went to the police and my work about it, he started filing claims against me. He twisted my words, he went to the media, he made me look terrible. Even in court, he brought up my mental health like that gives him free rein to do what he did. 

“So after the sentencing, I packed everything up and I left. I knew the media would come at me so I texted my friends and let them know I was fine and then I disappeared.” He wipes at his eyes, pressing the heel of his hands in. “Then I met you,” he murmurs. 

“Then you met me,” Blaine agrees, “and I met you.”

Kurt finally meets his eyes, his face open and hopeful. “Does that mean you’re okay with it?”

“Well, I’m not okay with what he did to you,” Blaine says after a second of thought, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriends?” Kurt asks, voice small and full of emotion.

“Only if you want! I don’t want to pressure -“ Blaine is cut off by Kurt surging forward and smashing their faces together. He puts his hands on either side of Blaine’s face and tugs them closer together as if scared to let go. When they part for air Blaine can see the tears still clinging to Kurt’s eyelashes, and as much as he wants to continue he knows that he shouldn’t, not when they're both so fragile. 

Before Blaine has to broach the topic though, Pavarotti nudges between Kurt and Blaine, licking Kurt’s cheek. They separate easily, Kurt settling down in his bed and letting Pavarotti curl up near his feet. Blaine contemplates pulling the blankets up so the two beds are less separated, but decides against it, scared of pushing Kurt too far after the stressful night. 

Kurt turns the light off and they both lie down facing each other. They’re not sure who falls asleep first, but soon enough the sound of even breathing fills the space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who needed to skip, the problem section is basically Kurt explaining his ex-boyfriend manipulating him and trying to use him to get better work. The ex did physically abuse him, and tried to defame Kurt when it came to light.
> 
> As always, have a nice day, and I own nothing but my story!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine and Kurt spend a morning together before everything falls apart.

Blaine wakes first and gets to spend a while just watching Kurt in sleep. He’s so soft, so ruffled yet not dishevelled. Blaine’s not sure if it’s just his bias, but Kurt looks perfect with light sunlight filtering across his face and highlighting his features. Blaine can’t help but imagine what it would be like to wake up next to Kurt every day, see him get ready and go to work. 

Before Kurt can wake up and see exactly how creepy Blaine is he gets up and attempts to prepare breakfast. In the little shopping bag is a simple pancake mix, as well as some fruits and some honey. Blaine takes the pancake mix out and fills it to the line with water according to the instructions. He would prefer to make it from scratch but he’s not sure where Kurt has kept all of the ingredients for something like that.

Blaine whips up the pancakes easily, taking a second to find a pan and then clean the pan so it’s layer of grime is gone. The pancakes are easy, and Blaine adds a few blueberries in, just for fun. By the time they’re ready, Kurt is stumbling into the kitchen, wiping his eyes. Pavarotti trots in next to him, nudging his legs to direct him into the kitchen.

“Smells good,” Kurt slurs, “Coffee?” Pavarotti yips when Kurt stumbles a bit too close to the oven, gently directing him closer to the other side of the kitchen. 

“Here,” Blaine says, handing over his own cup and leading Kurt to a chair, “I made pancakes.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says when the plate is placed in front of him, he uses the side of his fork to cut the pancake and then places the piece in his mouth, washing it down with a swig of coffee.

Blaine sets a few on his plate as well and places the fruit punnets on the table. He grabs some for himself and then cuts into his own pancake. He watches as Kurt gradually comes to full awareness, delighting in the terrible domestic scene they’ve found themselves in. He thinks of the other day, where Kurt was up cooking breakfast for him and Blaine can’t help but wonder how early Kurt got up for him before they even settled into a relationship. 

Kurt scratches Pavarotti behind the ears, yawns once and then shakes his head as if to wake himself up. Next thing Blaine knows, Kurt’s eyes are bright and he is completely aware of his surroundings. 

“Thank you for breakfast,” he says, voice much less slurred and much more crisp, “you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed,” Blaine admits, “but then you woke up.”

“I make sure to foil your plans.” Kurt gathers his utensils on his plate and places them both in the sink, rooting through the grocery bag until he finds a can of dog food. He opens it and places it in a dog bowl for Pavarotti to snack on while he goes back into the bedroom.

“Still tired?” Blaine asks, confused until Kurt walks back out with a bottle of pills.

“No,” Kurt flicks the cap off and swallows two with water, “just needed to take these before we hit the road.” 

“Where are we going?” Blaine asks as he stands and begins to wash the dishes, “another campsite?”

Kurt shakes his head and begins to pack the bags. “The next stretch is densely populated, so I reckon we’ll be sleeping in the car for a while as we go around.” He cocks his head to the side, “Is that okay with you?”

“It’s fine!” Blaine says, swooping down to peck Kurt’s cheek, “why would I object to spending time alone with you?”

“Even if you develop a crick in your neck?”

“Even if I develop a crick in my neck.”

Kurt throws his head back and laughs. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me!” 

Blaine, having washed the dishes and put them in the cupboards, leans over to peck Kurt’s cheek. “Let’s see if I can improve on it then,” he says.

Kurt turns his head a little so their noses brush and takes the opportunity to kiss Blaine once again. “I don’t know how you could, it was a pretty sweet sentiment.”

“You’ll see!” Blaine insists, moving back to let Kurt finish packing. Together they make their way back to the front desk, Blaine carrying a majority of the bags, and Kurt hands over the key, noting that the employee looks more awake than usual.

They stuff everything in the car, Pavarotti once again angry at Kurt insisting she sit in the backseat. (He bribes her with toys in the end, and she eventually settles down there.)

Kurt starts the car, pulling out onto the quiet road. Kurt turns the music up, listening to some of his favourite Broadway hits. He hums along absentmindedly and as he checks his mirrors to turn he notices Blaine staring at him.

“What?” He asks, worried that he has something on his face.

“You’re just really nice to look at,” Blaine admits, and Kurt scoffs.

“Yeah, you like my face?”

“I like you.”

Kurt blushes hard, his cheeks lighting up a deep pink. Blaine smiles even harder at him, watching as Kurt ducks his head a little but keeps his eyes on the road.

“I like you too,” he admits, and even though the other L word is too much right now, this is a lot easier than he thought it would be. Kurt really likes Blaine, really wants to have a future with him. Grow old with him, share their life with each other.

That’s when he sees the police cars.

Kurt slows his car as needed, expecting a crash or something, but the cars seem to have no actual purpose. Kurt hears police cars behind him as well, their sirens on. He turns to ask Blaine a question, but Blaine looks off. 

His facial expression is completely closed off and Kurt doesn’t understand.

“Pull over!” One of the cops calls and so Kurt does so, glancing over at both Blaine and Pavarotti, trying to gauge if Blaine is okay. The lights can trigger seizures, but Blaine just seems cold.

Once the car is stopped, police officers surround the car, guns drawn and bulletproof vests on.

“Exit the vehicle,” one yells, “and put your hands behind your head!” Kurt turns to Blaine, but he is already out, being swarmed by officers and held to the floor. A few officers reach in to grab Kurt as well, pulling him out. 

They sit him on the ground, keeping guns on him and Kurt just starts sobbing. Kurt can’t see Blaine, only a pile of cops he assumes he’s under. Pavarotti is barking in the car, scratching at the glass, concerned and trying to get to Kurt before he can work himself up into a panic attack. 

Kurt is dragged back to his feet and led away to a police car. He tries to turn his head to see what they are doing to Blaine but only sees flashes. Handcuffs around his wrists, the officer speaking to him, and the tiny reassuring smile Blaine tries to send his way. 

He sits in the car, crying into his hands. An officer comes over to place a crinkly blanket over his shoulders, but Kurt is shaking so much it starts to slide off.

“My dog,” he manages to croak out, “please, I need-“ his voice cuts off into a whimper, tears still streaming down his face. The officer takes pity on him, turning to yell at some of the others milling around. Kurt turns to see what’s going on, catching sight of Blaine being stuffed roughly into the back of a police car and being driven away. He sobs anew at that, fearful for both of them.

Another officer, a woman this time, comes up with Pavarotti snarling in her arms. The poodle’s head snaps to Kurt as soon as he’s in range and she jumps down to him. Kurt buries his hands in Pavarotti’s fur, curling up around her in the back of the car. 

The officers are still hanging around his car, emptying it out and taking his things. Through the tears, he can see them opening up his dashboard and taking his Broadway CDs, emptying out photos of his friends and family, collecting everything in little evidence bags.

He manages to catch an officer’s eye and find his voice at the same. “What’s going on?” He asks, “what did we do?”

The officer crouches down to his height, and Kurt has the sudden hysterical thought that he looks like a meerkat. “You’re not in trouble,” he says, “We need to bring you down to the station for some questions, that’s all. You’re okay.”

But Kurt doesn’t feel okay. He feels terrified. Pavarotti snaps at the officer as it gets too close, and Kurt is grateful that they're staying away for now. Instead, the officer calls over a colleague, a female officer with a much gentler expression comes over.

“Are you okay with me driving you to the police station?” She asks, and Kurt nods wordlessly. The woman smiles reassuringly at him, closing the door and effectively trapping Kurt in the police car.

He can’t help but wonder if that’s the last time he’ll see Blaine ever again and he starts crying harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARC 1 is done!! Phew. I hope you enjoyed Klaine actually interacting with each other because let me tell you Arc 2 does not start off friendly. This is over halfway done with the fic, and I'm estimating 4 more chapters. I hope you enjoyed and as always I hope you have a great day!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's interrogation, and what Kurt's been left out of.

For the first few minutes, Kurt is handed off to a woman who he later learns has specific training for traumatised victims. He sits on a bench just outside the police station with her, Pavarotti still held tight to his chest.

She asks him questions, what he did with Blaine, if he was hurt, if he needed medical attention. Kurt shakes his head vehemently when she asks if Blaine hurt him, though by the way her eyes soften and her voice gets a touch softer Kurt can tell she doesn’t believe him.

They then lead him into the police station, the large building looming over him. Inside officers bustle around him, a buzz. He hears the officers working on cases, a few in the break room. He spies a desk, on it a picture of him and a picture of Blaine, but he’s quickly hurried along before he can get a proper look at the surrounding documents. He can feel eyes watching him, unsure of if it’s because he’s famous or because he’s in trouble.

He’s taken to a small room with bright lights, and they ask if they can take a few photos for evidence. Kurt agrees, still terrified of being properly arrested, still scared that if he resists they’ll hurt him somehow.

He’s been in this situation before, police pretending to help him, taking evidence, smiling softly. Then when they hear something they don’t like they turn on you. The smiles turn condescending, the evidence is dismissed or used against. He’s had police question his injuries, threaten arrest, try to push him to confess to things that have never happened. 

He’s not making that mistake again, he just wants to do what they say and get out. Who knows where Blaine is? He’ll feel bad leaving him but the terror Kurt feels every second he’s in the building easily eclipses it.

The policewoman stays with him, taking Pavarotti and gently moving Kurt’s shirt out of the way so the other people can take photos. They categories his injuries. A burn he got from the pan that first-morning making bacon. A bruise from knocking his hip too hard on the pier after being pushed in the water. A scratch on his arm where Pavarotti accidentally got him after a petty spat she had with Blaine.

They photograph each one, even ones from days prior to Blaine arriving in his life. After being put together by gentle hands once again, Pavarotti placed back in his arms, he is led into an interrogation room.

Kurt sits in the cold chair, shaking gently. Pavarotti tries to calm him, uses all the tricks in the book. He can’t even bring himself to stop staring blankly at the wall. Everything is collapsing around him and he can’t deal with it.

The policewoman from earlier leaves, and instead two more police officers come in and sit across from him. 

“You’re not being arrested,” the first one starts, his hair is darker and his face softer, “we are just interviewing you.”

“About what?” Kurt asks, “Blaine?”

The first officer glances at his partner, with lighter hair and a heavier build, and answers “yes. Are you okay with continuing this interview?”

“Okay,” Kurt sniffles. He feels so blank inside but he also feels the build-up in his throat, denoting an incoming bout of crying. 

“I’m Detective Kiers, and this is my partner Detective Lome,” the more blonde one says, “you can call me Grant,” he amends, hoping that familiarity will allow Kurt to feel safer.

“I’m Kurt Hummel,” he falls into a pattern, “I’m 26, I live in New York.” He remembers the repetitiveness of interviews, the facts they want to fill in the forms. He just wants it over with as fast as possible. 

“How long were you travelling with Blaine?” Grant asks, motioning for Detective Lome to take notes, even though Kurt knows everything is being recorded.

“We met about five nights ago,” Kurt starts, “at a petrol station. He was just hitchhiking.”

Grant seems to pass a quick glance at his partner, who returns it. They seem unsure of something, and Kurt is quick to give them the address of the petrol station, thinking that they were looking for more information.

“Could you tell us the names of the places you stayed at,” Grant asks, switching gears for a second and Kurt complies. They slept one night at a camp, two nights in motels, one night in the car and the first night was when they met. Kurt details places they stopped at, who they talked with, what they bought.

Then they ask if Blaine hurt him, and Kurt denies it purely out of instinct and shock.

“It’s okay if he did,” Grant assures, “we have support systems in place. Anything Blaine did that was weird would be helpful, we know that it’s sometimes hard to spot abuse.”

“I know abuse,” Kurt snaps, “and Blaine did nothing to me. He wasn’t manipulative, he didn’t hurt me, he was a sweetheart.”

Pavarotti shuffles around in Kurt’s lap, attempting to divert his attention away from the stressful situation. Grant frowns down at the dog.

“Would you be okay continuing this interview without your pet?” He asks, “it may be disrupting and we need your full attention.”

“Pavarotti is a service animal,” Kurt says, “I need her with me.”

Detective Lome nods, “would you mind telling us what your service animal is used for?”

“She helps me manage with my anxiety-related problems,” Kurt says, and he catches the look the officers pass between them. They are questioning the validity of his statements. They are going over his answers and drawing conclusions based on the very little they know of his condition. Kurt can’t even call them out on it, because they’ll just add that to the list of ‘reasons why Kurt isn’t reliable’

‘Item 6,’ he can imagine them noting down, ‘argued with police officers.’

“Did you have any anxiety responses when you and Blaine were travelling?” Grant asks.

Kurt shakes his head, “I was taking medication as directed by my therapist. I was nervous at times but I didn’t have an attack.”

“Were you having attacks before meeting Blaine?” Detective Lome asks. 

Kurt thinks off days spent in his car, just sitting listening to music. Days where he just cried at the littlest things. The one time he tried on clothes and had a breakdown in the dressing room. He reluctantly nods, detailing a few.

“It was nice to have someone to distract me,” Kurt admits, watching as the officers probably add ‘item 7’ to the list. 

“We understand that Blaine may have been very charismatic. Did you ever feel pressured with him?”

“I’ve already told you, he did nothing I didn’t want him too, he didn’t hurt me, he didn’t pressure me,” Kurt snaps, “I don’t know what else you want me to say. No one even’s told me why he’s been arrested!”

“Oh,” Grant breathes, “will you give me a second.” He exits the room with the other officer, leaving Kurt alone with Pavarotti. There is no clock, so he doesn’t know how long it’s been until the detectives come back in, this time with the meerkat looking officer from before. 

“I’m Detective Smythe,” meerkat man says, “as part of the investigation into Blaine Anderson we are interviewing you regarding your time with him.”

“I know that,” Kurt says, “but why was he arrested.”

Smythe holds his gaze and taps the table twice in thought. “He has been arrested for breaking out of prison, as well as being the prime suspect in several murder and disappearance cases, and depending on what you tell us, he could be charged with kidnapping as well.”

“What?” Kurt asks. He feels numb. He feels hollowed out and destroyed. Unlike in the movies, he hears and sees everything in perfect clarity. There is no ringing, no fading, and he wishes there was just so he could pretend this wasn’t happening. 

“So,” Smythe continues, steamrolling over Kurt’s question, “did Blaine mention anything about any crimes he may have committed?”

“He said he got out of jail, I didn’t know he broke out. I let him into my car!” Kurt shakes, he can feel the ball in his throat, and tears start leaking out of his eyes again. 

“Come on,” Detective Lome says, motioning for the two other Detectives to leave, “let’s give him space shall we.”

He just sits with Kurt as he works through his feelings, ensuring that he doesn’t injure himself. When Kurt manages to pull himself together enough to answer more questions, they are kept light and with very little emotional load. It doesn’t really help, Kurt still feels devastated.

——

“He’s not going to tell us Blaine hurt him,” Grant starts, standing with Sebastian on the other side of the wall.

“He still feels threatened,” Sebastian deflects, “if he trusts he’ll be safe he’ll tell us what happened.”

“He’s not going to tell us Blaine hurt him,” Grant repeats, “because Blaine didn’t hurt him.”

“Maybe not physically, but in cases like these theirs always an element of manipulation. Kurt probably doesn’t realise it but when he does we’ll have more evidence.”

Grant huffs in frustration, “Kurt knew what was going on, I don’t think there’s anything there we can use.” Sebastian stares at Grant, scoffing and turning down the hall.

He has an interview with Blaine, and he’s sure that it will prove Sebastian’s theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arc 2 starts now! Boom. The trust is destroyed, nothing is going well. Will they be going to jail? Who knows! I hope you are enjoying the beginning of what will be a long road of forgiveness.   
> I hope you enjoyed and that you have a great day!
> 
> (If you think anything in this chapter, or any other chapter needs a TW I haven't mentioned, please let me know. I wasn't sure if this would be too much because I tried to avoid specifics. Thanks!)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, to Blaine's interrogation. However terribly it seems to go.

“So,” Sebastian says, thumping his files on the table. Blaine doesn’t even flinch, simply raises his gaze to meet Sebastian’s eyes.

“So?” He echoes. His eyes don’t even flick, his body filled with an easy grace that speaks of a privileged childhood. With his hair slightly mussed and his clothes more formal Sebastian feels like he’s lulled into a false sense of security. 

“You are charged with breaking out prison, that’s obvious,” Sebastian says, opening the files and sliding them over for Blaine to see, “but you are also being held as a suspect for the murders of your parents.”

“I’ve been held for that before,” Blaine remarks, “didn’t stick.” He doesn’t even glance down at the files, still staring at Sebastian smugly.

Angrily, the Detective taps on the files to draw Blaine’s attention down, “we have new evidence,” he says was Blaine’s eyes flicker down, “we can arrest right now and take you to court without interrogating you.”

“On what evidence?” Blaine shoots back, “last time I was here you couldn’t get anything to convict me.”

“Last time you where here we didn’t have anything else to arrest you with either, but now you’re already going back to jail for escaping, and when Kurt talks you’ll be there for kidnapping.”

Blaine scoffs, “kidnapping?” he asks, “he let me into his car. There is no way you could get anything even remotely close. I didn’t even hurt him.”

“Perhaps,” Sebastian says, “but we’re not here to talk about that. Let’s discuss where you were on the night of your parents' death.”

“We’re really re-hashing this,” Blaine sighs, “I will tell you the exact same thing I told the police last time. I went out to the shops, I took a call, I went home. I did not go to my parents' place, I did not see them, I did not kill them. Happy?”

“Where were you between 9 pm and 11 pm?”

“I was driving home, I took a call from my friend and had to pull over, you have these records.”

“How long was the phone call?”

“It took almost half an hour and required me to drive past his house, which made me later home. Anything else?”

“Yes actually,” Sebastian sneered, “can you confirm your alibi.”

“Probably not anymore,” Blaine replies calmly, “but I know for a fact that you have that phone call recorded as evidence. I handed it over last time.”

“Must have lost it, could you please run the call through with me again?” Sebastian gets his notepad out, looking at Blaine meaningfully as he clicked his pen open.

“You lose evidence?” Blaine asks disbelieving, cocking his head to the side.

“Misplaced.”

Blaine simply raised an eyebrow, “how about we drop this, because we both know there is no way any judge or jury could find me guilty with the evidence you have collected. It’s all circumstantial, nothing here is concrete,” he leans forward in the chair, “so, what if I cut a deal with you for you guys to drop my charges.”

“We’re not going to drop your charges,” Sebastian declares, “you are going to tell me exactly how you think you could have gotten away with it, we’ll cuff you and then if your lucky you’ll die in prison.”

“That a threat?” Blaine asks, “because let me tell you, my dear parents, may they rest in peace, forced me to go into law for a while before they decided medicine would be acceptable.” 

Sebastian feels his teeth creak with how hard he’s clenching them. “What exactly are you trying to do here?”

“I’m offering information on some of the most notorious gangs in this city, as well as a few murderers if you guarantee me I will be getting out of this a free man.” Blaine leans back, spreading his hands out over the table like he’s presenting his wares.

“No!” Sebastian snarls, “Where could you have even gotten this information? We’re not letting you go on lies. You are going back to prison!”

“Considering most of my information is from inmates, I’m surprised you’d want to send me back because they might know I’m the snitch. I’ll even give you some for free! Like a taste tester.”

“Like hell, you will!” 

“It’s been five days since I got out, right? There’s a shipment of drugs and weapons heading out tonight just east of here. If you’re fast you could get a few higher-ranking gang members as well.” Blaine says nonchalantly, tipping his head back in the chair, “although if you’re so sure that I’m lying you could continue to threaten me and let gang members who have committed actual crimes keep walking around.”

Sebastian is about to have a go at Blaine, telling him exactly how long he can be held here and interrogated when the door opens and another policeman walks in. Sebastian looks over and the policeman gestures for Sebastian to take a step outside. Blaine gives a half-wave, the effect somewhat hindered by the cuffs around his wrists.

“What?” Sebastian snarls once outside the room, “if we can get him to crack we can put away a potential mass murderer.”

“The weapons shipment is confirmed by our undercover officers. They had the information after Blaine broke out of prison. Apparently, his intel is legitimate, they’re sending out a squad tonight.” The officer says, he folds his arms and sighs, “look, I know this is your case, and believe me I’ve had slimy snakes like that, but if his information is as important as this, well then we need it. He’s probably going to walk, Smythe, so just let us get a negotiator in there and we can save a lot more lives.”

“If the news catches wind of this,” Sebastian starts, only to be cut off by the elder’s sharp bark of laughter.

“The first stories have come out already, as far as the public knows a famous celebrity and his friend were roughly assaulted by police. They know Blaine escaped prison but that’s not going to sell. The story has already been written and unless Kurt’s starts changing what he thinks happened, which will not happen, then the media will continue to support them both.”

Sebastian ducks his head and grinds his teeth. He thinks of the hours he has put into this, into bringing Blaine in and arresting him. The hours he spent rehearsing the interrogation in his head, intent on bringing him down, but now everything was ruined.

He wants to go back in there and demand the truth, but instead, he turns to the officer and says “I need a drink.” The officer smiles sadly at him.

“You’ll get the next one,” he assures, turning to walk back into the interrogation room to spend the next few hours with Blaine. They go over his story and his demands and then the mountains of evidence Blaine seems to produce.

Blaine tells the officer of the next two months worth of notable gang activity, pulls evidence for crimes out of nowhere and tells the officer names of witnesses who should be called in. Blaine even gives names to unidentified bodies. He sits there calmly the whole time, re-explaining when needed and just waiting until he goes free. He allows the officers to lead him away to a different room, allows them to cuff him again and give him old cases. He names fellow prisoners who committed cold cases that were never solved, and not once does he give away anything he doesn’t want to. He sits there, for all intents and purposes the perfect witness, unless you ask him something about his own crimes to which he will slither out of the question expertly. 

Sebastian, on the other hand, spends the night drinking, sitting on his couch and drowning his sorrows until he passes out. He ignores his fellow police, turns off his phone and just lets his failure consume him. This was his chance to prove himself. A massive case like this would put him on top. His career would advance and he would be next for promotion. The other cops and detectives would respect him, they would trust him with cases. They couldn’t accuse him of sleeping around to get on top because now they had proof he was good at his job. He took down a mass murderer who got away!

But now there was none of that, just failure, shame and loss. He thinks of quitting, starting again in some other district, or maybe just becoming something else altogether. He could be a painter, they're tortured souls right?

He passes out at about four in the morning, consequently the same time the police agree to release Blaine. 

“Will Detective Smythe be releasing me?” Blaine asks innocently, “for closure?”

The officer unlocks Blaine’s cuffs and scoffs, “he’s gone home, just me.”

“What a shame, I was hoping to see him as I walked out,” Blaine explains, “maybe he could have told me how he supposed I murdered my parents.”

Privately he tacks on, ‘might have even been right this time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just letting you know, this was a major plot point that inspired this whole story, so I'm really glad it's out. Everything after this is mostly winging it, just so you know. I also just wanted to say thank you for everyone who has kudos, commented, or even just read this story. It is incredibly amazing to see this kind of reaction in a failry dead fandom on a story that is pretty bizarre, you guys are amazing! As always, I hope you enjoyed, and have a nice day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The releases, and do our lovers ever meet up again?

Kurt is released only a few hours before they legally cannot hold him anymore. He is lead out to his car, which someone has driven to the station, and they have given him back all of his things.

They’re handed to him in tubs, and once Kurt has everything he begins to stuff it all back into his car. It doesn’t fit like it did the first time around and Kurt thinks wildly that maybe that's the perfect reflection of him. Nothing has changed really, he’s still going back on the road by himself, but everything feels changed and moved.

The carpark of the police station is mostly empty, and no one comes up to him. He can’t help but feel grateful for that, he doesn’t know if he could handle having someone try and talk to him, he can’t hold himself together long enough to entertain small talk. A few police cars pull up and people get out. Kurt has to look away when they start laughing, scared he’ll cry if he looks too long. 

As Kurt starts loading everything in his car, he notices that he’s been given back Blaine’s things. The clothes they got for him, the toiletries, Blaine’s snacks that he hadn’t gotten around to opening. Kurt is tempted to throw it all away, he knows that the healthy thing to do. He doesn’t, just shoves them in the back seat.

Pavarotti jumps in the back, as Kurt loads the car, settling down on Blaine’s jumper. She watches Kurt intensely as he sits in the front seat, her head swinging as if expecting Blaine to appear and sit beside her owner.

“He’s not here,” Kurt murmurs, looking over at Pavarotti who whines at him. He reaches around to scoop her up and place her in the passenger seat. The poodle clambers over to the window, cocking her head and looking out. She twirls back around to Kurt when she can’t find Blaine and sits down. 

“I know girl,” Kurt soothes, running his fingers through the poodle's fur, “I miss him.” He halts for a second, mentally reassessing, “even though he lied to me, and he’s actually a criminal.”

Kurt bangs his head against the headrest, “did he actually care about me? Was he lying the whole time?” He asks Pavarotti, and her only response is to cuddle up to him, climbing into his lap. Kurt curls himself around her, just breathing through everything. 

After a solid five minutes of calming himself down and compartmentalising, Kurt gently shoos Pavarotti to the passenger seat, swallows his pills dry, and then starts the car.

“Let’s go get some dinner before Dad calls,” Kurt tells the Poodle cheerfully, “I’m sure this has hit the news by now, and I cannot deal with that on an empty stomach.” He programs the nearest fast-food chain into the map and starts the car. As he turns out of the police station he steels himself.

He’s recovered once, he can do it again.

——

Blaine can tell the police don’t want to let him go. They keep circling around themselves, changing rules they just set and trying to squeeze every last bit of information Blaine has. 

But that’s fine, he’s prepared for this. Since Blaine escaped he knew that he would be caught again, but he also knew that he couldn’t go back. So he planned. He planned for months, gathering evidence on everyone and everything so that he had leverage next time anything happened. 

The police were resistant, not letting anything he said pass until it was fact-checked and every now and again they would threaten him with jail time to try and scare him into giving up more. Blaine was smart though, he knew what to give up when he was fine with withholding information if it meant that he could give it later and get a better deal.

Eventually, the police gave up, promising him both immunity for anything he might say that could incriminate him and that he would be released and face no charges for anything. Blaine was happy to provide them with any information after that, and the cops were even nice enough to give him a drink. He requested coffee with cream and two sugars and was immensely pleased when the officer grumbled profanities as he left.

After giving away almost all of his information, (he needed something in case they managed to find any solid evidence against him (which they wouldn’t because Blaine hadn’t left any.)) the officers let him go. 

They seem to take great joy in escorting him out of the station, although when they exit the doors Blaine notices that he has no way to leave the area. They are no cars, he can’t see public transport and the police stations seem to far away to walk anywhere.

“Can you call me a cab?” Blaine asks the officer, who sneers at him.

“It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the nearest payphone.”

“I haven’t gotten any of my belongings back, I have no money for either a call or a cab,” Blaine retorts. He’s not truly annoyed that he hasn’t gotten anything from them. The clothes weren’t his technically, Kurt bought them. He left jail without any of his possessions, his wallet was probably still in a box there somewhere. 

To be honest, the only thing he was truly missing was Kurt, it was the only point the police refused to budge on. Kurt was leaving without Blaine, and in fact, he suspected Kurt left as soon as Blaine started giving them information. In his mind, the police shuffled Kurt out as soon as they realised that Blaine hadn’t hurt him, but also that they were annoyed at Blaine and didn’t want to reward him by letting him see Kurt.

He imagines that the police told Kurt he had killed a bunch of people, that he was a horrible person and that he shouldn’t be trusted. He imagines that Kurt left in tears, scared and alone. He wants to find him, but he’s sure that Kurt is long gone and it’ll be a while before they can find each other again.

The police grumbles but pulls Blaine back into the building so he can call a cab. They also manage to give him some money to pay for the trip, as well as some left over for a call. The policeman and Blaine sit awkwardly together while waiting for the taxi. Well, it’s awkward for the policeman, Blaine is perfectly content to sit there in silence.

Eventually, the taxi does pull up, and Blaine is lead out to it.

“Good afternoon,” Blaine says, sliding into the backseat.

“Hello sir, where would you like to go?” The driver asks, he does look curious as to who exactly he’s picking up but Blaine knows how to appear innocent.

“Are there any fast food places?” Blaine asks, “I’ve misplaced my phone.” The driver brings up a map, showing Blaine the selection of restaurants in the area. Blaine selects the closest, somewhere undeniably cheap but he’s sure they’ve got a meat-based product.

The drive is mostly quiet, the cab driver putting on normal radio music. Blaine can’t help but wish for Kurt’s collection of Broadway musicals. Sweet melodies with emotional standouts instead of a dance beat. Blaine from before would never have preferred musicals over pop, his obsession with Katy Perry was well known in the Warblers. But now, Blaine was changed, Kurt changed him. He wants to see him, but he knows that there’s little chance of that happening. Besides, Kurt needs time to cool down, he can’t imagine the stress he’s under.

The driver pulls up to the restaurant, and Blaine gladly hands over the money the police gave him. He even tips, which the driver accepts gratefully before driving off.

Blaine pushes the doors of the place open, making his way to the front desk. The worker looks bored, someone on late shift going through the motions. Blaine orders the thing with the most bacon, adding a coffee and a doughnut. The worker takes his money and directs him to a waiting area. Blaine stands in the marked square, idly watching a cockroach as it scuttles across the floor.

After he collects his food, he turns to find a table, and that’s when he sees him.

Kurt is sitting in a corner, Pavarotti lying at his feet. He’s pecking away at a salad, an iced coffee next to him. There’s an open but finished packet of nuggets, most likely hand-fed to the spoiled poodle. Kurt still looks amazing, although tired. Blaine gets mad at the thought of the police holding him, did Kurt get the care he needed? While Blaine was gifted coffee did they give Kurt food or water?

Blaine takes a few hesitant steps closer, just admiring how changed Kurt is even though he remains the same. Suddenly Kurt’s eyes snap over to him, and he appears frozen for a second. Then Kurt shoots to his feet and struts over, grace and perfection colouring every step.

Blaine opens his mouth to greet him, but instead, a yowl comes out as Kurt slams his heeled shoe into Blaine’s foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! But I needed to. I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet again! It doesn't go great.

Watching Blaine’s face contort into pain was not as satisfying as Kurt had hoped. The sound he made was though, a half-muffled yowl of pain. Kurt lifted his foot, letting Blaine retreat a step back and just looks at him. 

“What was that for?” Blaine asks.

“What was that for?” Kurt repeats incredulously, “You know what that was for, you were arrested!” Pavarotti lifts her head but drops it after a second of watching and assessing.

“That’s hardly my fault,” Blaine defends, taking a hurried step back as Kurt advanced.

“Normally, people get arrested when they do something bad. You were arrested because you escaped prison!”

“I told you I got out of prison,” Blaine says, trying to appease Kurt. 

“Yeah,” Kurt fires back, “keywords being got out. You mentioned nothing about breaking out, or being under suspicion for murder.”

“I didn’t know I was under suspicion for murder!”

“They held me in that rooms for hours,” Kurt says, dropping his voice low and infuriated, “they asked me if you had told me anything about your parents or your classmates, they detailed to me all the evidence they had against you, how could you not know you weren’t under suspicion. They kept asking if I hurt you, and I defended you. I told them you didn’t do anything and then turns out, you were being held for murder? That’s a big deal, Blaine! I don’t even know how you aren’t in jail again right now!”

“That evidence is all circumstantial, believe me, they showed me too,” Blaine takes a step closer only to retreat when Kurt glares at him, “they couldn’t arrest me with it, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Six pounds of circumstantial evidence usually means that they did it.”

“They’ve put innocent people away on circumstantial evidence alone,” Blaine fires back, “I’m innocent!” Kurt stares at him, not dropping his gaze but considering. Blaine decides to push his luck, “I thought you would be more understanding of this.”

“What is that supposed to mean? What about me makes you think that I would be okay with you potentially killing people? Or is it the breaking out part?”

Blaine shakes his head rapidly, “no, you just mentioned how you knew about people being arrested for seemingly no reason. Like your friend?”

“My friend never murdered anyone!”

“I never did either!” Blaine yells back. He pauses and takes a breath, needing a second to calm himself down. Kurt looks about ready to murder Blaine himself, consequences be damned. 

“Sure,” Kurt murmurs, “sure.”

Blaine takes another breath. He could explain this to Kurt, but he doesn’t want to admit anything with anyone else around. So he says, “why don’t we talk about this somewhere more private, I don’t want to draw attention.”

“Draw attention,” Kurt hisses, stepping back like he was struck, “my face is all over the news. Again!” He puffs himself up taller, regaining steam he had lost before, “this mess has dragged me back to being front page. I was escaping all of that and then you went and got us arrested! I can’t open my phone, or turn on the radio, or watch TV, I’m everywhere. We’re both everywhere. There’s no point in ‘going somewhere more private’.” He puts quotation marks around the words.

“I can explain if you let me, I just don’t want to do it here,” Blaine tries, holding his hands up, “promise.”

“So what, you’re going to tell me you actually did do it? You’re going to kill me too? Oh wait I forgot, you’re completely innocent.” Kurt crosses his arms, Pavarotti trotting over as she senses the argument has gotten out of hand.

“I just need to tell you this in private,” Blaine insists, pointedly glancing at the check out worker. 

The check out lady looks vaguely interested in the fight, glancing over. Kurt follows Blaine’s gaze and notices it. He pulls himself together at last and turns to gather his food. He doesn’t even look at Blaine, just deposits his waste in the trash and walks out the door. Pavarotti goes after him, sneaking a look at Blaine before following Kurt dutifully out in the carpark.

Blaine hurries after them both and watches as Kurt shoves himself and Pavarotti into the car, starts it, and drives away. He just stands there, stunned. There are so many explanations on his tongue because he had thought that maybe they could fix this, but Kurt is refusing to even hear him out. He’s ruined everything with Kurt because of those stupid policemen.

Kurt, on the other hand, is deep in thought. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he does miss the easy familiarity of having Blaine around. He hates that it’s been taken away from him, that he’s alone again. That he can’t just turn to see someone next to him who shares something with him. He hadn’t realised how much Blaine’s company had meant to him until he was forcefully ripped away. He tries to think of the broken trust, but Blaine had become important in Kurt’s life, someone he could depend on, and it was hard to be without that suddenly.

He turns right.

Then again, Blaine lied to him, he hurt him. He let Kurt believe he was an innocent little hitchhiker, and yeah, Kurt might have been dumb for trusting him, but Blaine deliberately led him to a lie. He let himself get arrested, he didn’t even fight back, didn’t tell Kurt this he could be arrested. Although Kurt has a feeling that if Blaine had fought back, they would be in a much bigger mess then they currently are in.

He turns right.

But it doesn’t really matter because Blaine’s little escapade got Kurt roped back into the spotlight. He’s heard the news reports by now, and he spent a full hour just scrolling through the news in his car and looking over the number of times his name was mentioned. He’s everywhere, again. It’s not quite as bad though, he’s a victim from the start this time. That just meant he had to call his dad and reassure him he was fine, and then repeat the conversation at least twice more with Rachel and Mercedes. But that’s not really Blaine’s fault.

He turns right.

He had let Blaine kiss him! He had thought that maybe he could have a relationship there, the fairytale romance he’s been wanting since he was six! But apparently not, maybe he’s cursed to fall in love with awful people. Blaine just used him, he appeared nice but he broke Kurt’s trust. Then again, Blaine was a gentleman. He never hurt him, the police did find him innocent. Maybe, he’s not so bad. Maybe he did actually care, and maybe he does want to make it up to Kurt, is that something Kurt will allow?

He turns right, and then gradually slows to a stop outside of the fast-food stop, not even glancing at Blaine as he rolls the window down. He fakes confidence he doesn’t feel as he slams pair of sunglasses on his face.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks tentatively, his take out is still held in his hand, although it’s obvious Blaine had sat down in the gutter and started eating it. 

“You look pathetic,” Kurt says, monotone. It’s true, he did. 

“Oh,” Blaine looks off to the side, confused. Kurt huffs and moves Pavarotti into the back seat. The poodle looks slightly put out, but upon seeing Blaine she relaxes and settles back down into her seat.

“Get in,” he orders. Blaine hurries to action, opening the car door and sitting down, he turns to Kurt with a smile, and Kurt refuses to look. He pushes the sunglasses back onto his face further.

“I’m dropping you off at the closest bus stop,” Kurt says, “you are not staying in my car.”

Blaine blinks, “huh?”

“I am not forgiving you, I am just giving you a ride.”

“To somewhere far away?” Blaine asks cheekily and Kurt turns to look at him finally.

“To a bus stop.” He repeats. He ends the conversation by driving off. They pass a bus stop, and Kurt starts to slow before changing his mind and continuing on. Blaine doesn’t comment on it, but he grins. Kurt can feel his eyes on him and holds a hand up sharply.

“I didn’t say anything,” Blaine protests.

“I can hear you thinking it,” Kurt says, “shush.”

Blaine mimes zipping his lips closed and Kurt feels like throwing him out on the side of the road right then and there. He doesn’t, he allows Blaine to stay. He doesn’t know if it’s the right decision though, but he’s almost willing to give them a second chance.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everybody! I'm gonna be real with y'all, original plans pretty much ended at Arc 1. Blaine and Kurt would escape the police and live happily ever after. This has not happened, I rethought a lot of my original plans, in part thanks to all of you amazing readers. I didn't want to give you an unrealistic or unsatisfying ending so I'm rejigging a bunch of things. I've kind of figured out the new direction I want this part to take, and I hope you enjoy the ride I bring you all on. A few things are still up in the air (does Sebastian come back? do we see prison friends? who knows?), but these boys do get a good ending. 
> 
> If you have any suggestions, feedback or worries, feel free to comment, I'll try and reply to everyone. As always, have a great day and I hope you enjoyed!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They check into the motel. There are two beds.

When they pull into the motel Blaine is excited. Maybe a return to the normal awaits them, and they can talk it out, and then everything will be better. He holds his head high, not worried about cameras or getting caught anymore. As he looks around he notices that this seems to be a much more expensive establishment. This motel seems to have better lighting, no cracks in the wall, massive windows. Blaine would bet money on the TV in their room actually working. 

He is even more optimistic when Kurt leads him to a single room, he expects it to be a repetition of some of their first nights together, maybe even a one-bed fiasco but this time everything will be explained and they might sleep together.

His hopes are dashed when Kurt opens the room and it is very obvious there are two beds. There are two bedrooms even, with a double bed in each. 

“That one’s yours,” Kurt says offhandedly, pointing at the room on the right. Blaine notices its window is smaller, and that feels like more of an insult than anything else.

“This is a nice place,” Blaine mentions, dragging in his tiny collection of clothes. Kurt’s only brought his casual wear, but he did grab a bag of more fancy clothes in case the press turn up at the door.

“Super cheap places don’t offer two bedrooms in a room,” Kurt explains.

“I thought you didn’t go to expensive places though?” Blaine asks, having to call through the wall as they both dump their bags in their own rooms.

“That was to avoid people who might recognise me,” Kurt calls back, and Blaine is somewhat happy to find that he can hear him clearly, “but that’s all been stuffed up now.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Blaine says remorsefully, sitting back onto his feet as everything is put somewhere, “I didn’t mean to mess up your road trip, I honestly thought they wouldn’t make it such a big deal.”

Kurt hums, and Blaine can hear his steps exiting his room. For a second Blaine thinks Kurt is approaching him, but Kurt turns and walks away from both of the rooms. Pavarotti does pad into his room, sniffing around and glaring at Blaine. He reaches out to pat her but it seems Kurt’s disdain has bled over and Pavarotti just trots away from him, purposefully avoiding his hands.

Blaine takes a breath and stands, checking over his room to ensure everything is in place before also venturing out of his room. Kurt is busy over in the kitchen, he’s gotten out a variety of vegetables for dinner, but he doesn’t seem to be cutting them. He’s just staring at them with his hands on his hips.

“Do you want help?” Blaine asks, cautiously stepping closer.

“I don’t really want to cook,” Kurt mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face, “but I had take out earlier.”

“We can get pizza or something,” Blaine suggests, “you’ve had a big day, you don’t have to cook.”

“I don’t like having take out a lot, lunch was a treat.” He grabs a carrot resolutely and starts cutting it, “time to move on.” It sounds too thoughtful to be just about dinner and Blaine frowns in concern.

“Do you want me to start cutting anything?” Blaine repeats, “you’ve seen my skills in the kitchen.”

Kurt shoots a glare at him, but then it softens, most likely from exhaustion rather than any positive feelings. He scoots over slightly on the bench so Blaine can slot in next to him, “you can cut the onion,” he offers.

Blaine does so gracefully even as his eyes begin to water. They make dinner together as the sun sinks down in the window, and they eat in silence. It’s not quite tense, but it’s also not companionable. They’re stuck in a limbo between acquaintances and friends, not knowing which way to lean in case they set the other off.

Blaine collects the dishes while Kurt retreats back into his own room. He can hear a shower running, and Blaine assumes that there is an ensuite in each room. It’s disappointing that he won’t see Kurt again until the morning, but he does call out to Kurt when he hears they’ve both settled into bed.

“Good night,” he says. Kurt doesn’t reply, and the only sound is the faint buzzing of the dark.

Then, through the wall, Kurt asks; “did you kill all those people?”

“Kurt, what?” Blaine sits up in bed, “who?”

“The students,” Kurt offers, “the teachers, the shop assistant,” there’s a shuddering breath, “you’re parents?”

Blaine takes a breath in, he flicks the lamp as if that will help him think, “Kurt, I didn’t kill all of them.” He hears Kurt shuffle around in his own bed, and decides to go for the truth, “I did kill my parents.”

“Oh my gaga,” Kurt breathes, and Blaine hears him shuffle around a bit more. He feels like laughing, at the strange expletive, but also kind of feels like crying.

“It was an accident, honestly,” Blaine says, “besides, they were horrible people Kurt.”

“You killed someone.” Blaine can hear Kurt’s breath become laboured.

“I got mad, and I hit my dad, yes, I freaked out and then my mum was unconscious. I knew they would press charges, they would disown me, I would lose everything! I panicked and I punched the wall,” He takes a breath to steady himself, he can feel a lump in the back of his throat, “I heard somewhere that an overload of gas could cause memory problems and I thought I would just make them forget. I didn’t mean to kill them.” He can hear Kurt crying through the wall, muffled like he’s holding a hand over his mouth.

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Kurt rasps out, “Why did you hide it?”

“I was scared Kurt, it that so hard to believe?” Blaine hears a muffled thump through the wall like Kurt has slammed his hand down onto the sheets.

“Maybe!” Kurt yells. It seems he’s moved towards hysterical. Blaine feels like following him over the edge, but he can’t.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Blaine says, trying to compose himself and gather together the situation before the best thing in his life falls apart in front of him, “I promise I wouldn’t. I’m not going to go on a rampage, or whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking,” Kurt stresses, “about the other people the police said you killed. I’m thinking about how you lied to me.” Blaine has nothing to say to that, so he just remains quiet. He can hear Kurt calming down, rethinking and categorising, his breath becoming quieter until he speaks again. “Did you kill all the others?”

“No!” Blaine says, “I didn’t have anything to do with any of those,” he pauses for a second and rethinks, “well-“

“You didn’t,” Kurt says, and Blaine can hear him spring out of bed.

“I didn’t hurt them!” Blaine defends, “I helped them run away from their parents, they’re fine now.” Kurt is pacing, his steps going around in circles. Then Kurt stops and huffs a laugh. Blaine can hear him opening his door and padding through the corridor, his steps coming to a stop just outside of Blaine’s door. 

Then it creaks open, and Kurt is standing there on the other side, tears hastily wiped off his cheeks but a determined expression on his face.

“Do you promise you didn’t hurt anyone else?” He asks, and Blaine nods wordlessly, just lost in him. Kurt looks off to the side and then huffs and hangs his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine starts, only to have Kurt cut him off.

“I don’t think I’m ready to forgive you,” he says, looking at Blaine and taking a few steps forward.

“I’ll try and make it up to you, I promise, I’ll do anything. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Blaine swings his feet out of the bed but doesn’t stand up, instead, he watches as Kurt comes forward a few more steps and comes to stand in front of him.

“I want to trust you,” Kurt breathes brokenly, “I really, really want to.” Blaine feels like this is the end, Kurt is going to turn away, and Blaine will have lost him for good. Then Kurt surges forward and suddenly they’re kissing. 

It’s quick, and Blaine can feel tears on his face. Both of them are crying. Kurt is clinging to his arm, torn between letting go and staying close. He doesn’t want to be hurt again. Blaine seems to understand, simply pulling him a little closer until they’re in each other's arms, Blaine muttering sweet words under his breath.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, “I’m not going to hurt you, I don’t want to lose you.” Even though the room has two beds, they end up falling asleep together.

In the morning, Blaine reaches out, and the bed is cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some truth? From Blaine? Who could've seen this coming?? Not Kurt. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk and a chance.

Waking up to an empty bed is not fun. Especially since Blaine expected Kurt to still be there when he wakes up. In fact, it’s terrifying, and Blaine’s eyes spring open as soon as he realises Kurt is not within reaching distance. Blaine sits up in bed, rapidly scanning the room, and when he still doesn’t see any sign of Kurt aside from some mussed blankets he quickly gets out of the bed. He kicks items out of his way as he hurries out into the hallway, looking around to see if Kurt is there.

He’s not, so Blaine hurries through to the living room. Thankfully, the front door is still closed, and Blaine can see Pavarotti food and water bowl in the kitchen. He quickly makes his way in and is greeted with Kurt sitting at one end of the table, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands.

On the other end is another cup, and so Blaine sits down in the chair. He takes a sip experimentally and is pleased to find it sweet and creamy. Kurt remembered his order and cared enough to make it for him. Maybe this can be recovered?

“We need to talk,” Kurt starts. He sets the cup down and uses his free hand to tap a steady rhythm on the table. “I think we need to have an honest discussion about a lot of things here.”

“About?” Blaine asks, and Kurt’s fingers abruptly stop.

“Why you lied to me, again.”

“What?” Blaine huffs, “Kurt, I was honest last night, I’ve never told anyone except you.”

“I believe you when you said you didn’t mean to kill,” he stutters over the word, “your parents,” Kurt meets Blaine’s eyes, head-on and challenging, “but I don’t think I trust that you told me the whole truth last night. For starters, how did you manage to escape charges?”

“They thought I killed them at a different time but they couldn’t prove it,” Blaine offers, and when Kurt merely raising his eyebrow he continues, “I wasn’t going to correct them if they couldn’t prove I did it, Kurt, why would I?”

“Usually someone would if they felt remorse over killing someone, regardless of who they were,” Kurt says, “unless they were a psychopath or something.”

Blaine’s mouth sets down in a grim frown, “I’m not going to lie and tell you I felt sad that they were gone, I wasn’t happy about killing them but I didn’t feel regret either.”

“So you enjoyed killing them?” Kurt asks, and Blaine can see him physically recoiling as if to flee.

“No! I’m not like, excited about hurting people,” Blaine takes a sip of his coffee, it tastes bitter in his mouth, “my parents hated me as soon as I came out, they didn’t take care of me properly, I’d already cut ties with most of my family. Killing them was truly an accident, but I wouldn’t say it was a mistake.”

“Okay,” Kurt allows, nodding slowly, “but that doesn’t explain how you got out of the police station yesterday.”

“They had no concrete evidence against me, I was careful,” he puts the cup down, “but I also had collected a bunch of information they needed while I was in jail.”

“You planned for this?” Kurt reaches down to lift Pavarotti into his lap, “for an arrest where they had you cornered?”

“I knew they would catch up and but I didn’t think they would drag you into this,” at Kurt’s watery eyes Blaine rushes to reassure, “but I’ve got immunity now, they’re not coming back.”

“You still manipulated them, you lied to police officers, you put me and my life in danger,” Kurt lifts his hands to demonstrate, “what if they thought I was an accomplice, or they decided to shoot at us, or any number of things that could have really hurt or killed either of us. Did you not think it was important for me to know?”

“I didn’t think they would hurt you. I hoped you wouldn’t get involved at all.” There’s silence as Kurt runs his hands through Pavarotti’s fur over and over, just thinking. 

“Have you been using me, as part of a ploy, or something?” Kurt asks, and Blaine looks horrified.

“No! Kurt, I’ve never lied to you, I haven’t hidden any of my feelings or intentions. I’ve been one hundred per cent honest.”

“You’ve just veiled your words so I didn’t get suspicious,” Kurt retorts.

“I didn’t want to scare you off,” Blaine says, reaching a hand out over the table and setting it on Kurt’s. Kurt starts to pull away, but he settles, letting Blaine touch him, “you were the only good thing I had and I didn’t want to tell you something that could freak you out. And then you started being really honest and I thought it would be weird if I just suddenly told you I had omitted some things.”

Kurt stays silent, thinking, and Blaine feels hopeful. “I don’t think we can go back to how we were before,” Kurt allows and Blaine feels a rush of affection.

“We don’t have to, I don’t think we need to ignore this, we can work through it,” Blaine insists, “even if it takes time. I want to put in the effort.”

“It will take time,” Kurt says, “I told you last night I wanted to trust you, I do want to try. But if you ever pull anything like what happened yesterday again, it is one hundred per cent over.”

“It’s not over yet?” Blaine asks hopefully, and Kurt finally shoots him a smile. It’s small and shy but it still warms Blaine’s heart.

“It’s not over yet, I’m giving you a chance,” Kurt says, he points a finger at Blaine, “I hope I’m making the right decision.”

“You are!” Blaine grins at him, “I will make this the most worthwhile chance you have ever given anyone.” 

“That’s a big call,” Kurt says, his voice much lighter than before, “I’ve got some amazing friends I only got because I gave them second chances. Are you saying you can top that?”

“I’ll try,” Blaine springs out of his seat, excitedly coming over to Kurt’s side of the table but not touching him, just hovering fretfully. “You’ll let me try?”

“Sure,” Kurt says, being swept up in Blaine’s excitement.

“I’ll take you on a date,” Blaine continues, “it’ll be perfect.”

Kurt grins at him as Blaine practically dances around the room. “Where?” He asks, “and with what money?”

“Dinner!” Blaine proclaims, “will you let me cook you a nice dinner?”

“I might,” Kurt allows, “but I don’t want to jump into anything just yet.”

“I’ll court you,” Blaine says, nodding rapidly and startling a laugh out of Kurt.

“Court me?” He asks incredulously, “like we’re in the eighteenth century?”

“I’m a good old fashioned gentleman!” Blaine declares, mock bowing. Kurt laughs outright at that, hiding his smile in his cup. Blaine takes that as a win. Even though this will take time, they won’t return to their ways of before, it still feels like there’s hope here. They could grow, both as people and in this relationship because of the hardship. Not that Blaine is going to lie like this again, he doesn’t doubt any of Kurt’s threats, and actually feared that they were understated. He quickly opens the fridge and cabinets, looking for what to make for dinner.

“What about a roast?” He offers, “although maybe some rice would be better?”

“You’re planning, not me,” Kurt says, dumping his cup in the sink, “although does this mean we’re staying here again tonight?”

“Do you not want to? I could make something at the next motel we stop at maybe?” Blaine closes everything up in dissatisfaction, “although, do you have more food in the car?”

Kurt hums, getting his wallet out his bag, “what about we stay here again tonight, but you can go shopping for whatever you want to buy for dinner.”

“If you’re sure,” Blaine accepts the hundred dollar notes Kurt passes over.

“It’s not a bother,” Kurt says, waving away Blaine’s concerns, “I want to look around the boutiques here as well. And I think it’ll do us some good to spend some time apart. Before our date of course.”

“Okay,” Blaine agrees, “can I buy some nice clothes for tonight?”

“You don’t appreciate the clothes I got for you?”

“No!” Blaine panics, but relaxes a bit when he catches the playful smirk on Kurt’s face, “they’re great, I just want to surprise you.”

Kurt laughs a bit, “maybe I’ll surprise you too?” He passes a map over to Blaine, pointing out a few nearby shopping centres, and then leashing up Pavarotti.

“Meet back here at six,” Blaine asks, and Kurt nods at him.

“I’ll put the dinner reservation in my diary,” he says, smiling. He leaves the motel, taking a quick walk to the nearest strip of clothes stores, ready to buy something for the night. 

Blaine on the other hand, spends a few more minutes panicking and dancing around before gathering a shopping list and venturing out into the world. He gets back at around four and starts preparing for the most important date of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where we're going, straight in the deep end. Yay!! Everything starts looking up after this, and I've got my plans back in order. Thank you all for sticking with it and being amazing, we hit over 500 hits which is fantastic, I'm so happy! I hope you enjoyed and have a great day!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date comes to fruition, but is it good enough?

Kurt enjoys his shopping trip. He flits around a few of the clothes stores, leaving and returning when he can’t find a better deal. He settles for a few new shirts and a nice pair of pants he spotted in a clearance rack. He also picks up a little handmade broach, a hippo quite a bit smaller than the one he owns already. He thinks of ditching Blaine here and making his way to the next state without him. He mentally dismisses the thought as he pays.

He said he would give Blaine a chance, and he’s going to hold onto that unless Blaine proves unworthy. One could argue that murdering someone would be an automatic strike against them, but Kurt was willing to look through that. Not past it, it would still colour how he sees Blaine, but it wouldn’t be his focus. 

Oh, and isn’t that bizarre, his focus on a murderer is not their murders. Or, murder. Kurt still isn’t sure if it even was murder from a legal standpoint, but he’s really trying to ignore that.

As he plucks his bags out of the shopkeeper's hand, graciously dolling out a signature when they ask, his phone rings. He juggles everything so he can pick up his phone and answer it. 

“Hello,” Kurt answers, knowing better than to announce his name in case it’s a prank call.

“Oh, Kurt!” Mercedes’ voice flits through the tiny speaker, “are you okay? We’ve been so worried.”

“I’m fine,” Kurt says, absent-mindedly calling Pavarotti to heel and beginning the trek back to the motel. 

“You were arrested, it was all over the news!” He can hear shuffling on the other end of the line, most likely an assistant, “and that man they arrested you with? Is he a criminal, Kurt?”

“I was called in as a witness, they released us both unharmed,” Kurt explains, “no charges, nothing. I’m making my way back to my dad’s.”

“You sure? It looked like a massive squad or something,” Mercedes’ voice dips, “I was really scared for you, Kurt.”

Kurt huffs a breath against the receiver as he crosses a street, “Cedes, I’m fine. They thought Blaine was a serial killer so they pulled in a mass of police. They thought I was a hostage or something!”

“Blaine, huh?” Mercedes says, not missing a beat, “that’s the man you’re travelling with. How’d that happen?”

“He’s a hitchhiker, I needed some company, end of story.”

“Company? That’s a quick rebound.”

Kurt blushes and is grateful she can’t see it, “I’m not sold on him yet,” he defends.

Mercedes laughs, the sound filling Kurt with warmth as he waits by a set of traffic lights. “Dating phase, I hear you.”

“If you’re just going to tease me about my love life….”

“Your love life has been a wreck lately, let me bask in your romantic rebound Blaine.”

“I didn’t tell you he was romantic, where did you hear that?”

“So you admit it!” Mercedes crows in delight, “I can see it already, a wedding at the beach.”

“Too much sand,” Kurt dismisses, “probably something indoors, but I like the outdoors suggestion. Is it weird if I copy Santana and use a barn?” Mercedes laughs at him again.

“I better be your bridesmaid,” she accuses.

“Groomsmaid, Cedes’, and of course,” Kurt says, and then just to needle her he adds, “You and Rachel.”

“Boy, you better be joking,” Kurt’s laughter covers the rest of her sentence, and she joins in. “Anyway,” she says when they can hear each other again, “I’ll let you get back to your wedding planning with Blaine.”

“Just dating,” Kurt reiterates.

“Sure,” Mercedes fires back, “bye, love ya.”

“See you soon.” They hang up together, a routine developed over years of ‘no, you hang up’. Kurt makes his way quickly through the hotel doors, climbing the stairs to his room and unlocking the door.

He walks in, surprised to see Blaine already at the kitchen. It’s only 5, but it looks like he’s been working for a while. Blaine notices Kurt come in, most likely the sound of multiple bags alerting him.

“No peeking!” He shouts, trying to cover the entire kitchen area with his body. Kurt jokingly holds a hand in front of face and dashes into his room. He dumps a few bags onto his bed and hangs the clothes that need to be hung. He looks at the wardrobe, flicking through his clothes. He feels weird picking out clothes for a date with his date behind a door, but he takes that out of his mind and starts to get ready.

He decides on a fancier set of clothing, even taking out his makeup kit and throwing on some powder just in case. He feels almost giddy with excitement as he carefully walks out of his room. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, peeking around the corner into the kitchen.

“Come in, come in,” Blaine motions for Kurt to enter, and as he does he sees the immense amount of food prepared and placed on the table. Blaine has changed since this morning, putting on the classier clothes Kurt picked out for him, topped with a sweater Blaine obviously picked out himself. Kurt is glad he’s not the only one dressing nice.

He lets himself be led to the table, admiring the food presented before him. It’s a feast, covering a broad range of food so that Kurt can pick and chose what he feels comfortable with. It’s surprisingly thoughtful. 

Blaine leads Kurt through the dishes, explaining each one, and then seats himself across from Kurt like they were last night. Blaine grins awkwardly, just waiting for a reaction.

“This is really nice,” Kurt says, “thank you.”

“I wanted it to be like a fancy restaurant,” Blaine explains, grabbing some food for himself, “but I didn’t know what type you like the most.”

“You’ve certainly covered all the bases,” Kurt grabs a few of the lighter items, piling his plate. He takes a bite and is pleasantly surprised. “This is really good.”

“I told you I could cook,” Blaine replies, digging into his plateful of food.

“But you’ve never cooked alone for me,” Kurt defends playfully, “it’s like a restaurant.”

“A good one hopefully, not like Breadsticks,” Blaine mutters almost under his breath and Kurt gasps.

“You went to Breadsticks?” Kurt asks, “that place was so bad!”

“I forgot we were from similar towns. Breadsticks was a staple terrible dining experience. You went there on a date?”

“No, with my friend Mercedes,” Kurt laughs, “although considering the circumstances she might have thought it was a date.”

“Really?” Blaine asks, looking shocked. 

Kurt giggles, “she had a crush on me, I wasn’t out yet, but I mean, I was pretty obvious.”

“Really?” Blaine repeats, incredulously this time, “I understand her crush but at the same time, really?”

“That was her reaction too! There was a whole intervention staged by my other friends, it got kind of funny.”

“I can imagine,” Blaine says, laughing into his cup. 

“She called me earlier to check on me, because of the news,” Kurt admits, “I didn’t realise how much I missed her.”

“She sounds nice,” Blaine offers, “I’m glad you’re still close.”

“Yeah, my old glee club stuck together pretty tight after school. I shared an apartment with two friends from glee until I gathered my feet in New York.”

“That sounds really nice,” Blaine huffs a laugh, “I’m not super close with any of the Warblers, but whenever we see each other we always say hi.”

“Do you have any other close friends?” Kurt asks, and Blaine takes a breath and looks off to the side. 

“Not anymore really, I mean there are some guys I know but I wouldn’t say I was close with any of them.”

“Oh, well I can introduce you to some of my friends,” Kurt offers, “if you want me too?”

“That would be nice,” Blaine admits, then he shakes his head and picks up the conversation, moving it to a nicer topic. They talk together idly for a while, discussing favourites and learning that they both have a love for vogue covers. Kurt explains his deeply complicated fashion sense and Blaine explains his uncomplicated ‘if it fits I will wear it’ policy. 

When they are finished with dinner, packing away any leftovers to snack on during their road trip, Blaine brings out dessert. It’s a mixture of a few store-bought doughnuts and a homemade cake.

“There are two layers, chocolate and vanilla,” Blaine explains as he sets it down, “I didn’t know which one you would prefer.”

“I’ll have to try both then,” Kurt replies cheekily, letting Blaine cut him a piece. They eat with companionable conversation, their talk ebbing and flowing like before. They haven’t regressed to where they were a few days ago but rather mirrored the familiarity. 

Everything is cleared away after dessert, Blaine refusing to let Kurt clean the dishes. 

“Will you let me walk you home?” He asks, and Kurt laughs.

“To my room?” He clarifies, “sure.”

Blaine links arms with Kurt, strolling along the corridor and depositing him at Kurt’s bedroom door. Kurt laughs as Blaine kisses his hand, and plays along by pecking Blaine’s cheek before entering his room. When the door closes, both erupt in laughter, continuing on with the charade. Kurt changes into his pyjamas and gets into his bed, Blaine does the dishes before retiring, both of them thinking of the date.

It’s a step forward, and when Kurt falls asleep he dreams happily of a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me every step of the way (hopefully no misused words), but here it is. Not too long to go now before the two of them are where I want them......  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine makes some decisions this time, and they happen to be the right ones.

The next morning they check out, Kurt purchasing an extra bag to stuff his new clothes in and finding space for it in the back seat. Pavarotti puts up a mock-fight with Blaine when she gets put in the back, and Blaine almost gives in just to avoid creating trouble.

Luckily Kurt swoops in and straightens them both out, quickly getting in to start the car.

“Do you want me to drive?” Blaine offers, and Kurt hastily shakes his head.

“Not that I don’t trust you,” he says, “but I’m much more comfortable behind the wheel.”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Blaine reassures, “just let me know if you get tired.”

Kurt promises to do so and together they set off. He sets his phone in the little holder, bending it so it faces Blaine.

“Do you want to pick out our next stop?” Kurt asks as a peace offering to soothe nerves he didn’t actually ruffle. 

“Fancy or low-key?” Blaine asks, already tapping away at the next town over.

“Whatever you like,” Kurt allows, before scrunching his nose and rethinking, “but can there be a working kitchen please?”

“Don’t worry, already ahead of you.” Blaine plucks through the menus, flicking through the map. He carefully selects a hotel in a relatively small town but it has amazing reviews.

Kurt watches out of the corner of his eye as Blaine turns the phone back towards him, the map already started and telling him directions. “Where are we headed?” Kurt asks, flicking on his turn signal to merge into the next lane. 

“It’s a surprise,” Blaine says happily, “you’ll just have to see.”

“I don’t know if that's wise considering I am, you know, driving the vehicle.”

“A good surprise, you’ll like it,” Blaine reassures, “promise.”

Kurt hums, turning as the map instructs and settling in for the drive. Blaine looks nervous, but Pavarotti distracts him by begging for pats. They ride in companionable silence with a backdrop of broadway musicals until the map dings with its announcement of arriving at their destination. By this time the sun had set, and the two boys had worked their way through the leftovers from last nights dinner-date. Kurt is ready to sleep, his backs and arms aching a bit but not outright painful. 

They hop out of the car together and Kurt takes a look at the hotel. It’s doesn’t look like much, a more homely building, but when they enter Kurt realises how nice it is. The walls look clean, the workers are polite, he books a double room and is pleased to find both a fancy kitchen and a flatscreen TV inside. There are two rooms, which Kurt is grateful for, although the wall between them can be easily slid back into the wall. 

Kurt lugs his overnight bag into his room, briefly frustrated with the number of times he’s had to do this and sets up his skincare bottles in the bathroom vanity. 

“This is a nice place,” he praises to Blaine as they cross paths in the hallway.

“I’m glad you like it,” Blaine says, “didn’t want to ruin my chance with a bad hotel.”

“I’m not that shallow,” Kurt defends, and Blaine’s eyes flick down to the cluster of bags in his hands. Kurt strikes a playful pose, reminiscent of Cruella deVil, letting the bags dangle in his fingertips as Blaine chuckles at him. 

“Whatever you say,” he grabs a bag out of Kurt’s grasp, who struggles to get it back. They end up in a fit of laughter, the bag somehow halfway across the corridor. Kurt goes to retrieve it and as he calms himself down he realises that he’s laughed more since he met Blaine than in the whole six months before. He’s been truly happy, and doesn’t he deserve that?

He’s been beaten down so much, surely on some level, he’s being rewarded for his hard work. If that is in Blaine, even though he might have hurt someone accidentally, then why should he fight it? Blaine makes him happy, and he’s pretty sure that he makes Blaine happy too, so shouldn’t they pursue this? 

The sun is setting, casting golden rays over the room when Blaine comes over to knock politely on Kurt’s door. 

“Yeah?” Kurt calls, fluffing up his pillow how he likes them.

“Do you wanna go on another date?” Blaine asks nervously, opening the door a little so he can poke his head in.

“Oh,” Kurt lifts his, “do you want to cook again?”

“No, I um…” Blaine scratches the back of his head, “I wanted to know if you wanted to go out to a restaurant somewhere.”

“A date-date,” Kurt mutters, then louder, “if you can find a nice one I guess, sure.”

“When will you be ready?” 

Kurt glances over his clothes and huffs, “give me twenty minutes.”

“Dress nice-ish,” Blaine orders, ducking back out of the room. Kurt shakes his head, standing up to try on some outfits. Nineteen minutes later he steps out of his little room dressed and ready. It’s not super warm but Kurt’s wearing a short-sleeve shirt and tight pants, topped off with his usual accessories. Blaine stands in the doorway, also wearing a nice shirt, a bowtie sitting at his throat. He grins at Kurt and links arms with him, Kurt’s other hand occupied with Pavarotti’s leash (which seemingly connects with a purple bow on her collar, something Kurt had kept for a more fancy evening.)

When they get in the car Blaine asks to program the place into the map, and Kurt graciously turns the phone towards him again.

“How did you find the place?” Kurt asks as the phone is swung back towards him.

“The hotel has little brochures everywhere. I found a restaurant in one of them,” Blaine explains offhandedly, looking nervous. Kurt takes pity on him and continues to drive without asking any more questions. They pull up to the building, Kurt marvelling at the nice restaurant in front of them.

“I didn’t know a town like this would have a nice place like that,” Kurt admits.

Blaine shrugs, “I know you’re kind of fancy, so I thought you might enjoy going to a place like this.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” Kurt hops out of the car, gathering Pavarotti up and walking in. Blaine hurries to catch up with him, half-jogging to meet up so they enter the doors together. A waiter leads them to a table tucked in a fairly isolated corner, probably recognising Kurt and trying to give them some privacy. They sit and are given some menus, and the meals are explained to them.

“I haven’t been to eat out for years,” Blaine admits, “at least, not at a nice place.”

“Do you need a translator for the dishes?” Kurt teases and Blaine scoffs.

“I’m not that rusty,” he says, “besides, its only English. I should be okay.”

They order when the waiter returns. Although Blaine insists he’s in his element he orders a simple steak for dinner, while Kurt seems to magic up a menu item that sounds complicated and wonderful. Blaine would doubt it exists if not for the waiter already having a shorthand to write it down. He leaves with an assurance that their entrees will be out soon. 

Kurt sips at his complimentary wine, setting it down delicately after. “Thank you for bringing me out to this place, I probably wouldn’t have been able to go alone.”

“Surely you’ve been to fancy restaurants all the time, I mean you’re famous right?”

“Yeah,” Kurt sighs, “but the last few times I went out was with my ex. Bad memories now.”

“Let’s make some better ones then,” Blaine offers, reaching his hand out to rest it on Kurt’s. Kurt smiles shyly at him, whatever sappy response being cut off by the waiter returning with their entrees. They decided to share a platter of simple finger food, but while Blaine grabs things using his hands, Kurt stabs each portion with a fork before bringing it to his mouth. He also goes for the lighter options.

“Are you on a diet?” Blaine asks, “not that you need to be or anything, just that I noticed you eat a lot of healthier options.”

“No,” Kurt huffs a laugh, “I’ve been on a diet before, not anymore! I’m just cautious about what I eat because I got super into exercise and health. Not an appearance thing,” Kurt reassures, “even if I’m a bit of an unofficial model sometimes.”

“You model?” Blaine asks, feeling flushed.

“Just sometimes, usually testing out some of my designs. Not professional modelling.”

“So no photos in any magazines?” 

“Maybe vogue? Otherwise no,” Kurt laughs, “although I’m flattered you think I would be worthy.”

“Not only worthy, but you would also look great modelling,” Blaine praises, satisfied when a bright flush creeps up Kurt’s cheeks. Kurt waves him off, taking a sip of his wine to hide his blush. The date continues in a similar fashion, both boys teasing and laughing. The food is delicious, the company even better, and at the end of the night Blaine takes Kurt by the hand and leads him to a little pier.

They sit together, fancy pants rolled up so they can dip their feet off the end and into the water. And it’s there, in a perfect mirroring of their first kiss that Kurt decides he can do this.

He realises, that he loves Blaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took ages to get out, sorry. I hit a block and was struggling this entire week to write enough, but I got this out. There's probably only 2 or 3 chapters left, so I hope you're all enjoying and looking forward to what's to come. Have a great day!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt finally reaches his destination, and Blaine gets a closer look into Kurt's life.

The next morning Kurt packs quickly, the breakfast not even half as extravagant as usual. He shepherds Blaine out the door and when he complains simply shoves a packet of chips into his hand. It confuses him long enough to quietly get in, but then he recovers.

“There’s a rush?” Blaine asks as Kurt shuffles him into his seat, both of them ready hours before their usual time. 

Kurt springs into his seat, “I figured out that it’s only five more hours to my Dad’s place,” Kurt says excitedly, “I wanted to get there fast.”

“Cool,” Blaine says, watching as Kurt sets up his phone, “have you told him?”

Kurt freezes, then hastily taps in a few numbers and sets his phone to speaker. It rings for a second, then a fairly rumpled voice picks up.

“Hi, dad!” Kurt says brightly, “Sorry to wake you up so early, I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be at yours in a couple of hours.”

“That’s great, Kurt,” the man replies, “I’ll let Carole and Finn know!”

“He’s home?” Kurt asks, gently changing lanes, “when did that happen?”

“About the same time you were arrested apparently.”

“Oh, Dad. C’mon. We already talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just let me know if you need me to go down there and give them a piece of my mind.”

“Sure,” Kurt says, huffing through his nose, “I’ll do that and risk you getting so worked up you end up back at the hospital.”

“I’ve been eating healthy!” Kurt’s dad deflects, Blaine feels like he’s being ignored or forgotten, “besides, I’m meant to be caring for you right now. You can fuss over me when you get here.”

“Sure dad,” Kurt says fondly, “I’ll be there in about five hours. We can eat lunch together.”

“I’ll make something.”

“Something healthy!” Kurt calls.

“Something,” his dad reiterates, “bye kid, love ya.”

“Love you too Dad,” Kurt practically coos at his phone, and his dad hangs up. “Notified now,” Kurt says, nodding to himself and bringing up the map one-handedly. 

“That’s your dad,” Blaine notes offhandedly.

Kurt glances sideways at him, “yes, that was my dad,” he affirms, “is there a problem with that, or…?”

“No, no,” Blaine rushes to assure, “no, it was just nice to hear you talk with your family. He’s not exactly what I expected.” He didn’t sound like Kurt’s father, too deep and, as bad as it sounds, too masculine. In Blaine’s head, the two didn’t line up.

Kurt huffs a laugh, “wait until you see him.” Blaine scrunches up his forehead but doesn’t comment further, content to let Kurt sit in his happiness and wait for the surprise. The drive is fairly uneventful, Kurt hiding a yawn behind his hand halfway through and Blaine worried that their early departure might mean a, well, early departure from life. Luckily, Kurt’s slight drowsiness did not result in an accident and eventually, Kurt pulls into a driveway.

The house is small, modest. The windows are clean, the door a pleasant wood colour, the garden trimmed nicely down. It was obviously well-cared for but at the same time nothing like Blaine’s house which sometimes almost seemed plastic.

Then, only a couple of seconds after the car stopped, a man came out of the front door. Now he understood Kurt’s offhand comment, his dad was massive. Blaine was intimidated by what looked to be a cross between a lumberjack and a literal bear, but with a lot less hair. Not in the face, but rather in build. He was confident that there was a rifle somewhere in the house, and that at some point he would be threatened with it.

Kurt ran eagerly to meet his dad in a hug, the gesture being returned and Kurt’s feet lifting off the ground for a few precious seconds. Even Pavarotti joined in, lifting up on her hind feet to try and be lifted up.

“And who’s this?” Blaine heard as he walked closer. 

Kurt turned, and grinned at them both, “this is Blaine,” he said, before turning the other way to gesture, “Blaine this is my dad, Burt.”

“Nice to meet you,” Blaine offers his hand, Burt shaking it rigorously but warmly. 

“I let him hitchhike and he stuck around,” Kurt explains, already entering the house.

“Like a cold,” Blaine confirms, cautiously following. Inside is as nice as outside, well kept but still with a tad messiness that shows a well-lived area. Kurt is rifling through the pantry and the fridge, checking over everything. He seems mildly concerned but any comments are cut off by a woman and fairly confused looking man.

“Oh, Kurt!” The woman says, “you look wonderful!”

“Thanks, Carole,” Kurt returns, reaching a hand out to drag the other man closer, “and Finn, how are you?”

“I’m good,” Finn replies, “who’s that?” He points at Blaine, and everyone’s heads swivel around. Blaine feels like a bug under a microscope, if the microscope was a collection of terrifying but well-meaning family.

“That’s Blaine,” Kurt introduces, “Blaine, this is my stepmom Carole and my stepbrother Finn.” He gestures vaguely to each in turn, letting Blaine step forward and shake hands in the appropriate gaps.

“I made lunch,” Carole says, “don’t worry about the health rating,” she scolds Kurt mildly, gently pushing him back out of the kitchen. 

“Has he been forcing you to eat healthily?” Finn asks Blaine, “how do you survive that?”

“The same way any other person would, Finn,” Kurt butts in, “besides, I haven’t been forcing you to eat salad.”

“It’s reserved for me,” Burt says, taking a few of the platters from Carole and setting them on the table. Blaine notes no extra seating for him, but that’s quickly fixed by Kurt and Carole, who shuffle everything around so he can smoothly fit.

Like a tornado tearing through the room, Kurt, Carole and Burt work together to set everything up nicely, smoothly moving around each other. Finn keeps out of the way, and Blaine decides to follow his lead. They all sit down almost as one, Finn and Blaine quickly shuffling over so as not to appear out of place. The spread on the table is nice, something homely, something sweet, something heavy. Everyone starts to scoop things out, Kurt reaching over to redirect his dad’s hand when it gets too close to the butter dish, but otherwise, everyone sticks to their own corners.

“So,” Burt says once his plate is filled, “Blaine Anderson?”

“Yes, Mr Hummel?” Blaine responds, not liking where this is going.

“You were on the news a couple of nights ago, got yourself arrested I heard.”

“Dad, really?” Kurt asks, shooting Blaine an apologetic look.

“I just want to get to know you’re friend, Kurt,” Burt waves his fork around as he speaks, “make sure that everything is all cleared up.”

“I did get arrested, Mr Hummel, but I was released with no charges,” Blaine quickly but calmly cuts in, wanting to stop an argument before it starts, “I’m sorry that Kurt got caught in the middle of it.”

“Call me Burt,” Kurt’s dad says, a reflex reaction probably as he seems to be in thought, “I heard on the news you were arrested about a murder. And you escaped prison?”

“I was a suspect in my parents' murder, but they didn’t find me guilty,” Blaine says, voice steady, “I had escaped prison but they didn’t arrest me for that.”

“He’s not dangerous Dad,” Kurt cuts in, gently patting his Dad’s hand, “unlike that bacon you’re hiding under the salad.”

Burt flicks a few things around on his plate guiltily, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he deflects, dropping the piece onto Finn’s plate. Kurt stares flatly at him and raises an eyebrow. Carole attempts to placate Kurt and the conversation naturally flows into gentle teasing and trading jokes around the table. Somethings do fly over Blaine’s head but he doesn’t feel excluded, mostly because not every joke garners a reaction and Finn remains confused for most of the meal. (Then again, that could just be his natural expression.)

Lunch is devoured, which may have been partly done by Blaine, and then everyone takes a second to clean up. Kurt enlists Finn and Burt to help him grab out a few bags, instructing where they are put down or put away. Once everything is set up in its place he attempts to show Blaine his own room, only to be blocked by Burt.

“No, kid, he’s not sleeping in your room,” he says, using his bulk to push them both towards the living room, “the couch is perfectly fine.”

“I’m 26 Dad,” Kurt complains, “and I have my own couch in my room.”

“You’re still my son,” Burt shoots back, “and my rules still stand.”

“You think we haven’t been sleeping in the same room at hotels?” Kurt asks, crossing his arms. Burt gives him a look, a ‘do you really want to push that button tonight’ look, and Kurt sighs.

He goes to get some sheets, folding them up and placing them on the couch. There’s still a while until dinner, so they don’t bother setting everything out again.

“Are you going to stick around for dinner?” Burt asks, “have a family meal?”

“Lunch was a family meal,” Kurt says, “I kind of want to visit some of the more nostalgic places around town.”

“You and Finn can do a trip around,” Burt smiles, waving his son away, “go plan with him.”

“I will Dad,” Kurt replies, grasping Blaine’s hand and tugging him back towards the bedrooms. As he passes Finn’s room he sticks his head in and calls, “Dad wants you to join me when we go out for a bit, but pretend you’re sick.”

“Why?” Finn asks, “that wouldn’t be bad.”

“I’m going to bring Blaine out to Scandals,” Kurt explains, “the gay club.”

“Oh,” Finn looks shocked, “yeah sure, I’m sick. Bad stomach or whatever.”

“Thank you,” Kurt yells in, closing the door and leading Blaine to a bathroom, where his bag is already set up, “do you want to get changed before we go out?”

“Okay,” Blaine looks over his clothes, “are you going to?”

“Of course! Call me when you’re ready.”

Kurt leaves, and Blaine hurries to get changed. He’s looking forward to being just with Kurt again, his family is nice but it feels like a lot after being just them two. He’s ready for some time alone with Kurt, or at least, semi-alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, let me speedrun towards the end of the fic. Only a few chapters left, and don't worry the boys get their special moment. I hope you enjoyed and have a nice day.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A choice, an ending, a beginning.

Kurt knocks on the bathroom door, excited when Blaine opens it and appears dressed up. 

“Ready to sneak past my Dad?” Kurt asks, a small bag in his hand.

“We’re sneaking out now?” Blaine asks right back, he thought they would just walk out the door.

Kurt puts on his most serious face, “it’s a very serious mission,” a smile cracks through, “we won’t be out for long, he’ll never suspect a thing.”

“I’ll try my best,” Blaine agrees, “but my shoes might be too loud.” They both look down at Blaine’s polished shoes solemnly before Kurt grins at him and tugs Blaine down the corridor, which lets Blaine look at exactly what Kurt has changed into. While he’s put on a fun sweater and bowtie, Kurt has obviously dressed up for clubbing. Tight pants, funky button-up (unbuttoned fashionably of course), and Blaine swears the corners of his eyes are twinkling with glitter.

Burt looks up as they walk past and Kurt gently clips a leash onto Pavarotti’s collar. He frowns, crosses his arms and lets out a huff.

“Where’s Finn?” He asks.

“He said he was sick,” Kurt explains, “thought I might take Blaine out instead. Show him the sights.”

“Hmm,” Burt hums, clearly sceptical, “be back before 9.”

“I don’t need a curfew,” Kurt replies, mostly to prove a point, “I’ll be back before 10.”

“If you run into trouble call me, I’ll come back you up,” Burt turns his attention back to the TV, and Blaine isn’t sure whether he actually knows where they’re going or not. Kurt doesn’t seem worried, almost skipping to the car and getting in. Blaine follows, grinning at Kurt when he turns on the car and on reflex places his phone in the holder.

“Don’t need this,” he mutters, turning to face the road. The drive is quick, Kurt navigating much more smoothly through familiar roads until he reaches a sequestered bar. There’s a bright flashing sign on the top proudly disclaiming ‘Scandals’.

“I think I know this place,” Blaine mutters, “might have been brought here once.”

“It’s the only gay club for miles, sounds likely,” Kurt agrees, flicking down his mirror to double-check his face. Once happy with it he swirls out of the car, grabbing the leash for Pavarotti on his way out. His boots make little clicking noises against the floor, almost perfectly in time with the beat from the club. There’s a slight stutter that portrays his nervousness.

Blaine follows quickly, astounded when the bouncer greets Kurt like an old friend.

“When did you have time to come here?” Blaine asks as they enter the club, loud music and pink lights surrounding them.

“I might have had a fake ID for a little while…” Kurt hums, “really I was just here for a friend of mine.” 

“The bouncer?” Blaine asks, looking back and feeling an odd surge of jealously as he mentally compares himself to the hulking figure. 

Kurt laughs, “no, a friend from school who was having trouble coming out.” Blaine nods absentmindedly, following Kurt as he makes his way to the bar and orders something sickly sweet and pink. Blaine (because he’s sensible) orders a beer, and then (because he’s a sucker for Kurt asking nicely) takes a sip of Kurt’s drink and is surprised to find it doesn’t have any alcohol.

“Don’t drink?” Blaine asks, nodding at the cup.

“I’m your drive back,” Kurt points out, “I’m not going to drive drunk.”

“Your dad said he could pick us up though.”

Kurt levels Blaine with a flat look, “do you want to explain to him how we got drunk?”

“No,” Blaine says, his mind once more filled with the image of a shotgun. Kurt laughs again, gently swatting Blaine’s shoulder in an attempt to get him to lighten up. Kurt looks so carefree, with lights flittering across his head, dancing across his eyes and landing on his cheeks. The beat of the music funds in time with Blaine’s heart and he feels like pulling Kurt into a heavy kiss right there on the bar.

He shakes away the impulse, decides instead to pull Kurt onto the dance floor. Kurt follows eagerly, both of them bouncing among the bodies to the techno beat of some remixed Lady Gaga song. He eyes keep catching on Kurt’s face, his smooth, if not slightly dorky movements. He looks completely in his element, out and proud.

He keeps reaching over to peck a kiss on Kurt’s cheeks, a slight tug on his clothes so they’re eternally spinning in each others' orbit. It’s amazing, he wished he could spend every night of his life here.

Then his eyes flick slightly over Kurt’s shoulder on one spin and meet the eyes of a familiar face. There, hunched over whisky at the bar is the police officer. Smythe.

The detective immediately straightens up, sliding off his stool and regaining his balance when he stumbles. He stalks over, Kurt still oblivious.

“You!” Smythe hisses, finally grabbing the attention of Kurt, “Blaine Anderson. I should deck you right here.”

“Detective Smythe,” Kurt says, taking a step back and almost knocking into Blaine.

“Not anymore,” Smith hisses back, “your buddy over there got me fired.” He jerks a thumb at Blaine, turning to face him fully, “got too involved in your case apparently.”

“That’s not my fault,” Blaine tries to appease, but it seems Smythe is too drunk to listen to reason, instead launching forward to punch Blaine in the face.

Blaine manages to dodge it, letting the punch glance off his shoulder before springing back and watching as Smythe takes a stumbled step forward. He can feel the anger course through his veins, adrenalin backing him up as prepares to swing. Smythe notices this, his body becoming taught as well, but he’s so drunk he stumbles on his feet. It would be an easy win for Blaine.

Then Kurt grabs one of his fists, forcefully pulling it out and away from the fighting position. Blaine looks at him, questioning but still on high alert.

“Blaine, it’s not worth it,” Kurt murmurs, the loud music drowning his voice out for everyone but them. Blaine looks over at Smythe and is hit with deja vu. He can remember last time this happened when he took a swing with someone in a bar. He remembered what happened next, flashing lights, separation from all he knew. There’s a chance now, this is the chance Kurt’s giving him, that the universe is giving him. 

He drops his hands and smoothly sidesteps Smythe’s next attack, letting him collide into a few dancers and gain the bouncer’s attention. Blaine and Kurt hurry out of the situation, letting Smythe be dragged off and huddling together at the bar. They finish their drinks and once nerves are settled decide to dance some more.

It’s reaching 11 when they decide to leave, Kurt awkwardly propping up Blaine as he stumbles to the car. Pavarotti hovers near their feet, yapping if they start to tip too far. By the time Blaine gets into the car, slumping over the seat, Pavarotti has had enough and sits on Blaine to stop him moving.

“It’s past 10!” Blaine gasps as he looks at the clock on the dashboard, “Kurt! Your dad is going to kill me!”

“I texted him earlier, he knows we’re coming back late,” Kurt assures, passing a bag over to Blaine.

“A hat!” He exclaims happily and Kurt has to leap over to stop Blaine from laying the bag across his head.

“This is for if you need to vomit,” Kurt explains slowly, gently placing the open bag into Blaine’s hands. Blaine nods back solemnly and keeps nodding until they get home. He’s sobered up a tad but when Burt’s figure fills the doorframe it feels like all the alcohol left his system in a rush.

“Come on,” Burt huffs as he and Kurt exit the car, “it’s warmer inside.”

Once they get in, Blaine managing not to trip over himself, Burt helps them set up the spare couch as a bed. Once done he shoos Kurt away, insists he head to bed while Blaine changes. Blaine doesn’t expect to see Burt still standing in the living room when Blaine returns. 

Burt waves for Blaine to sit on the couch-bed and then does so himself. He leans over, placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The TV is playing in the background, but the volume is turned down to almost nothing.

“Look, Blaine,” Burt starts.

“Yeah?” Blaine cautions, looking down as the bedsheets scrunch up under their weight.

“I don’t really trust you. You broke out of jail, I looked into your offence and it was pretty violent. You were arrested, you got Kurt into trouble with the police, and you got him hurt. I don’t want you hanging around him.”

Blaine swallows, “um…” he mutters, not quite sure if this is the point where he runs.

“But,” Burt allows, “you also make him happy. I haven’t seen him this carefree since he left. He trusts you, and I have to trust him.”

“Oh,” Blaine breathes, “Mr Hummel.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not watching you, okay?” Burt points his finger threateningly, but a smile is pulling at his lips. “You screw up and I’m kicking you out myself.”

“Yes sir!” Blaine agrees hastily. Burt grins at him, shaking his head with a huff. Blaine feels awkward, like something should be happening.

“Well, go on,” Burt says, gesturing to the corridor.

“What?”

“Go on,” Burt chuckles, “go see him. I’m not gonna stop you.”

Blaine stands awkwardly and makes it three steps before turning back to check. Burt waves him on, leaning back against the couch and relaxed. Blaine practically runs down the dark hallway, bypassing Finn’s room and taking a guess at where Kurt sleeps.

“Hmm?” Kurt asks as Blaine pushes the door open, “Blaine?”

“Hey, Kurt,” Blaine greets, gently lifting the blankets and scooting into the massive bed.

“Wait, my dad,” Kurt protests.

Blaine hushes him gently, “he let me come up here.”

“He did?” Kurt asks, eyebrows scrunched up in sleepy confusion. Blaine nods, gently grasping Kurt’s hand under the blanket. They settle down together, Kurt’s breaths evening out as he rests his head on Blaine’s chest, and Blaine feels so happy he could cry.

This is it, this is what he’s been waiting for. This is redemption, this is his chance. This is his.

This is love, and it’s going to last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! The end. Do you like my nice bookending with a reference to Blaine's actual offences? Makes me feel like an actual writer. Both Kurt and Blaine reach their destination! There is still a little epilogue to tie up loose ends, but here is the end of the fic officially. I hope you all enjoyed, you are all amazing and thank you for reading this far and being so supportive! Have a nice day!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ending, properly.

They stay at the Hummel-Hudson house for a few more days, but Blaine and Kurt are itching to go back to New York. When they do return, they both hole up in Kurt’s apartment, spending days together and planning extravagant dates. Kurt goes back to his job, loving it more than ever with a model who’s always ready to try clothes, whereas Blaine reaches back out into medical fields.

He also reaches out to a few of Kurt’s friends, smoothly fitting himself into their friendship circle but also getting close to people Kurt isn’t close to. He even meets back up with some Dalton friends, and Kurt is introduced to the ‘definitely straight’ club.

Blaine proposes while they’re touring Europe, as they walk around Paris streets Blaine gets down on one knee and gives Kurt the most wonderful ring he’s ever seen in his life. It’s tacky but romantic.

Their wedding is not on a beach, neither is it in a barn. Blaine had proposed near a massive historical building so Kurt couldn’t put their wedding there either.

It’s in a garden, a spring wedding with flowers blooming around them, and Pavarotti as a flower girl. Mercedes and Rachel fight over who’s the Groomsmaid, and Blaine chooses his newest best friend Sam as his Best man. (That sparks more argument because Sam and Mercedes are dating, and both girls try and use that to their advantage. For sake of ease Kurt honestly contemplates giving the position to Finn. He doesn’t, he’s not that desperate.)

The ceremony is gorgeous, with flowers falling down around them and not a dry eye in the entire place. They walk down the aisle from opposite sides, meeting in the middle. Blaine wears a traditional suit but Kurt wears the most amazing and groundbreaking mixture of dress and suit that fashion magazines obsess over for weeks. There are embroidered flowers to match the scenery, but its colour palette is both flattery and not too eye-catching. It’s truly the couple at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

The afterparty is full of amazing music, and better food. The cake was a six-layer monstrosity, with flowers lining the sides and into a spiral at the top, with the little figurines standing proudly above. They cut it together, and Kurt refuses to let Blaine mash cake into his face. They compensate by feeding each other bites from their forks.

The wedding pictures are amazing, of course, the photographer had gotten the flowers perfectly behind them. It’s almost a perfect heart of flowers and Kurt almost cries when he sees it. 

Nevertheless, life only gets better for them. Kurt is promoted higher and higher, his designs showcased to wider and wider audiences. Blaine finds his passion and settles easily into his new job.

It’s perfect, the love each other, and when they’re both dancing in their 80s, they can’t help but look back at everything and smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!! This is my longest fic, and even though this epilogue is tiny (sorry) I'm actually really happy to tie everything together like this. Thank you to everyone who sticked with me through this really awkward story, I'm glad you're all still with me. For perhaps the last time, I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


End file.
